TES 3-5: The account of an Argonian maid
by Secret Sheik
Summary: A former maid, once Nerevarine, Hortator and Arch-Magister of the Telvanni, gets shoved yet again into a prophecy she didn't necessarily want. Things had been fine enough until dragons came around, but she and Aryon had never really had that kind of luck anyway.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own. This idea came from my first inspiration for my old Morrowind character, who I knew I had to make after reading The Lusty Argonian Maid. I wondered if she might have been a real person, what might have been their actual conversation, and not just what Crassius wanted to hear. It somehow evolved into a real character with a more complex personality, becoming my avatar in other Elder Scrolls games I've played. She became more than just a randomly chosen character, and seeing all the other fanfics out there with their own Nerevarine characters, I'm not alone in this. Taking her into Skyrim was... strange, but I thought why not, the Nerevarine is immortal. First is the prologue and her background and what all happened during her odd beginnings and then the events of Morrowind, then her continuing adventures in Skyrim. This was written mostly for my own enjoyment but if you feel like reading it too, go for it. Also, yeah, I kinda have a thing for the Telvanni, but then who didn't?

TES 3-5: The account of the real "lusty argonian maid"

* * *

It had begun innocently. Really, it had. She had been cleaning as always, just going about her business. An Imperial building needed a good deal of that, after all. After she had been orphaned, her parents dead during the Arnesian war and being an Argonian marooned in a sea of Dunmer and Imperials, Laje-tal had been a household slave for a time and then bought by an Imperial household, deep in Morrowind near the city of Mournhold. Though it hadn't been easy, being a live-in maid did have the benefit of good protection and a fine roof over her head, even if it wasn't hers. She hadn't even been a slave anymore, the Imperials freeing her and giving her the job with pay. Everything had been perfectly fine until he came along.

She had been notified of a noble coming to stay at the manor for a few days, some man from the Great House Hlaalu. His room would be just as clean as anyone else's so she wasn't sure why they bothered telling her, but Imperials were funny about appearances. A vague promise to do a better job than usual had sufficed well enough, and so it was that she had been cleaning when the man came in. Curse the damn fireplace and its constant filth.

"Well well, did the mistress really send me my very own servant?" Despite herself she had looked, taking in a brief glance of aging, uninteresting Imperial. Ignoring him, she went about her business but he just kept on talking. "I say, my fair lady, are you here to serve me?"

Hiding a roll of her eyes she answered him curtly. "No, I'm simply here to clean your chambers. I'll be finished soon enough."

He didn't take being shoved off easily. "Is that all you came for, my sweet? My chambers?"

This time she frowned at him. "Yes. Once I'm done someone will be along with your linens."

"Such a shame, I'd rather have you bring my linens. You have such strong legs and a shapely tail!"

This needed to end now. Unfortunately she hadn't quite gotten a particularly tough soot stain off the mantle and she cursed every speck of ash as she scrubbed it away. "I'm sure you have better things to do than harassing the maids."

He smiled a smile she found terribly disgusting. "Not at all. I wouldn't harm a scale on you, I'm merely offering you a compliment."

"If you don't mind, I need to get back to my cleaning. You're distracting me."

"Cleaning, you say? I have just the thing." Holding out a long, steel spear, he gestured, trying to get her to take it. "Here, why don't you polish my spear?"

Taking one look at it she could tell it was tarnished, needing the attention of a specialist. "I don't take care of such a thing. You would do best to see the weapons master."

Finally she managed to dislodge him – for now.

* * *

The second time she had met Crassius Curio, she had known his name. She had been cautioned to his nature this time, and she knew better what to expect. He was a man with perverse notions, harmless enough but still disturbing. Unfortunately he was also one of the Hlaalu councilors so everyone did what they could to humor him. To her dismay, this time he also knew her name.

"Why hello there, Laje-tal!" Yet again he had found her, right on schedule with when she was set to start cleaning. Wonderful. "You know, I was wondering, what sort of name is Laje-tal? Not that it doesn't fit such a beautiful creature, but I don't know what to make of it."

Gritting her teeth, she set about straightening his bed covers. "In your tongue it means lifts her tail. A lifted tail is a sign of health and strength. It doesn't do to drag one's tail on the ground like a sick animal. If you were to actually consult those books of yours you would see it is a common enough name."

"Oh." Not sure what to think, he defaulted to what had brought him here to begin with. "Maybe you can solve this conundrum of mine... I don't think I've been doing it quite right." He took out a dish full of raw bread dough, poking at it. "Would you know what the next step in making this would be?"

She stared into the bowl, the enormous amount not even kneaded yet. Even she knew better, and she wasn't one of the cooks. "You made too much, you'll need two pans for that, and you had better knead it first. Ask one of the cooks about it."

"The next step is to knead it?"

"It needs yeast, and needs to rise, but yes. Again, I don't know. Ask one of the cooks."

Risking a curious glance, he offered her the bowl. "I don't quite know how. Would you knead it for me?"

This time she didn't conceal her rolling eyes. "You shouldn't even have such a thing out of the kitchens. The mistress would have a fit if she noticed it missing. You had better return it."

"Oh don't fret about the mistress, she will get her appetite sated well enough."

She froze, suddenly catching on to his innuendo. Really, she had been too literal and innocent a type to know any better at her young age. Dropping the covers as they lay she left, giving up. It was rumored that Queen Barenziah would be coming by. Maybe the fair queen mother would take another guard for her caravan. By any Daedra that would help her, she hoped so.

* * *

The third time they met, things had been very different indeed. She had taken that guard job, changing her profession into one that suited her need for adventure, desire to learn more magic, and of course getting away from Imperial nobility. After serving the queen for a good year she moved on to Mournhold, though it quickly became clear that she wasn't ready to exist in that society. After being framed for a crime, she was sent to an Imperial prison, at a loss for what to do next. Then one day without warning she was released, transferred to Vvardenfell, starting a journey she never would have expected.

Along that odd journey she had come to the city of Sadrith Mora, a place she came to know inside and out after joining House Telvanni. They had everything she wanted, free magic, interesting enchanted items, access to as many books as she could read, everything! The only thing missing was not getting those odd looks every time she came in the room. It was almost as if they had never seen an Argonian Telvanni wizard before. Well, they hadn't, but did they really have to do that every time she entered a room? Still, if nothing else the Telvanni minded their business, unlike the pesky Hlaalu and stuffy Redoran. By the time they realized she intended to carve a more permanent place in their world she had already dug herself too far in to be easily ousted.

The wizard Aryon had readily agreed to be her patron in the house, glad for an ally against the stagnation of the rest of the house, and now it was as his second that she stood here in the Hlaalu canton of Vivec, following the Nerevarine prophecy that she had somehow found herself fulfilling, taking the last step to be the Hlaalu hortator. House Redoran had accepted her readily enough and of course the Telvanni accepted her instantly, but the moment she saw Crassius Curio she groaned, hoping against all hopes that he wouldn't recognize her after all these years. Fate was crueler than that.

"Laje-tal!"

She winced. Really, most of the time the soft-skins got members of her kin confused for one another, not noticing the subtle differences in face and skin patterns, but she just had to come across one of the few who never forgot. Trying her best to be diplomatic, she spoke plainly, but he had demanded the unacceptable. No, she wasn't keen on stripping for him. Instead she had shoved a mountain of coins at him, bribing the position out of him. It left her nearly broke and angry but she had an idea of how to solve that. Yes, a Telvanni Arch-Magister and his two dremora guards were on her hit list. That might make her feel better. For now.

* * *

The final time she saw him, he was laying in a pool of blood at her feet. For once, she hadn't done it. Someone had been so terribly annoyed by him that they enlisted the Morag Tong to take care of him, just when she had been itching to do it herself. Although it was beyond disappointing, it was at least satisfying to witness the scene of the execution. Somewhat.

His latest play had been what inspired her to go there that day. Sure, his own name had been changed and he used her common tongue version of her name, but anyone who knew the Argonian language enough to know what her name meant hadn't had the decency to not raise an eyebrow at her. All of those she was able to call friends, along with those who knew about the man's more... peculiar enjoyments, didn't believe one bit of it, but it was slander all the same. If only she knew who had slain him, she would go congratulate them.

When she went to visit Aryon, arms full of every copy of the play she could find, he had given his faithful student a curious look as she dumped the load near his pile of firewood. As soon as he saw what they all were his smile widened, threatening to become a full smirk. "Planning a bonfire today?"

Turning to him with a toothy grin she rubbed her hands together with expectation. "Yes, a big one, a whole pillar of fire." It hadn't taken too long for her to figure out who had issued the hit on Crassius, and it was with a glint in her eye that she came closer to her mentor, almost pinning him against the wall. "I would have done it outside, but you know I said to myself I bet Aryon would love to join in the celebration. I haven't the slightest idea what gave me that notion but then I've never been one to question such things when I think of them. Tell me, am I right?"

He shrugged helplessly, playing along. "It did occur to me today that it was a bit cold outside."

This time she did trap him against the wall, seeing the challenging look in his eyes that had first sparked the day she had killed Gothren, tossing the blood stained robe at his feet. That had been the day their strange but very strong relationship had become anything but platonic, albeit in a sudden, unexpected outburst of action. "Cold, was it?" Turning about just enough to focus her aim she concentrated a small bit of magic into her hand, pulling on the telekinesis spell to toss the papers into the fireplace, chucking a fireball right after them until they burned to her satisfaction. "Somehow I'm not quite sure that will be enough."

Their difference in height was only slight, and he found it easy to challenge her grip, knowing how even a battle it would be between them. "Come now, I taught you better than that. I know you have more than that in you. Show me what you've learned."

* * *

Together they had finally managed to subdue an Oblivion gate. Though they couldn't close the things, they could at least lessen the magic that allowed the Daedra through. Both Aryon and herself had worked side by side openly for the first time during the crisis, the troubles too great for anyone to care who or what aided their escape. In the chaos the true leader of the house had been revealed, along with their clandestine relationship, but it had become an afterthought as the battle raged onward. Tel Uvirith had unsurprisingly fallen, being too small yet and not as well guarded as the other strongholds. Laje-tal had evacuated her retainers beforehand, knowing the hordes of daedra would be too much for anyone. She, along with Aryon, had never kept slaves, considering the act both unnecessary and tasteless, given her lineage, but they did have plenty of paid servants, and now it was everyone for themselves.

Most of the other Telvanni had joined in with them, doing what little they could to abate the damage to their holdings as well as the rest of Vvardenfell. The Mages Guild stood side by side with the Telvanni, former Argonian and Khajiit slaves helping bring buckets of water to douse the homes of Dunmer and Imperials. For once everyone on the island was in agreement, and it was both heartening and chilling to watch. Daedra poured out of the uncontrolled Oblivion gates, coming by the tens and then hundreds. It was all that the mages could do to stem the tide, the rest left up to swordsmen, archers and pikemen. Everything seemed hopeless.

Dratha, the only Telvanni councilor who had accepted Laje-tal with more than a rueful frown, came running up to them, burned and out of breath. "Arch-Magister! My stronghold has fallen, Therana is dead and her holdings burned. Neloth has disappeared and Sadrith Mora is overrun. We can't take much more of this."

Laje-tal turned to her, still a little off-put by how the other woman addressed her. It had only just been revealed that an Argonian had been the true Arch-Magister, but then Dratha was odd like that. All she cared was that the new Arch-Magister wasn't another man. "We need to evacuate everyone, it's pointless to defend everything. The more people that gather, the more dangerous it's becoming. Clear out as many as you can to the wilds, these gates seem to be opening only near the cities and towns. There's no hope for House Telvanni, just save what you can and run!"

Understandably Dratha looked shaken, but she could see just as clearly that this was the only choice left for them, for anyone. The mages would hold back the daedra until their wills broke, but it would be sooner rather than later. Already some had been drained to exhaustion, there wasn't much time left. She gathered what remained of her warrior-women, giving them orders while nervously watching as the ground shook.

Pain and terror were all that anyone remembered during those days, broken only by grieving the dead and anger as they struck their foes. As suddenly as it came, it stopped. The gates suddenly stopped functioning, becoming smoking husks of stone. Despite their efforts, the official count of the dead was unknown. There were simply too many to even begin, but all got a proper burial – if anything was left of them to bury. Dunmer custom demanded burial by fire, and it was said that the skies burned dull red every night for an entire month from the pyres. It was only the beginning of picking up the pieces.

* * *

The five years after the crisis had been hard to say the least. What was left of their world was unrecognizable. Laje-tal had felt a strange thing during the Oblivion crisis, something that made her yearn to go to Black Marsh, but she had fought it off easily enough, dismissing it as an anomaly. Later they found out that many Argonians had been called the same way by the Hist to fight against the daedra attacking the marsh. Ald'ruhn had been all but cleared from the map, utterly destroyed. Imperial soldiers had been called back to Cyrodiil in droves, abandoning both the island and the mainland of Morrowind. Although some of them understood the need to protect home before all else, most of Morrowind detested the action, further degrading their relationship.

As for the Imperial City, to say that it was in a disastrous state would have been a horrendous understatement. The last of the Septim line was dead, the nation had no ruler, and everything was falling apart as they watched. On Vvardenfell, now completely separated from Imperial help, Laje-tal couldn't help but think that the Ashlanders and dissidents had finally gotten what they wanted. The Imperials were gone. Five years passed, a long, quiet five years filled with work and suffering. It was only to get worse.

One day Laje-tal woke earlier than usual, rising from the bed in the small house they had been sheltering in. Vos and Tel Vos had been just as well destroyed as anywhere else, so Aryon had sent on what little he could of what remained on to other holdings, retreating with her to live as quietly as they could, keeping low in their weakness. She didn't know what roused her, but she felt it in her blood just as surely as she had felt the pull of the Hist. Leaving Aryon to rest as long as he could she walked outside, watching as the sun was just about to rise.

The air was cold, typical for that time of the year, but it didn't stop her from following what tugged on her. Facing the direction of the sun, she felt something she hadn't felt in years. Azura was there, showing her the way yet again. Her moon and star ring on her hand burned a cold fiery burn, sudden images coming to mind. A mountain glowed red hot, rocks fell from the sky, entire towns sunk into the ground beneath. Just as it felt about to end, she heard Azura's voice.

"This will come to pass, friend to my children. Many have been told, but not all will listen. You still hold many hearts of the people, and they may yet listen to what I must say. Red Mountain will roar as it never has in times past, and those who seek power will take advantage of a weakness. Remove yourself from this land, Argonian, and take any with you that will follow you. Bear west and north, only there will you escape the tide of blood to come."

Then suddenly Azura was gone, only the pulling tug remaining, guiding her to where she was to flee to. By now Laje-tal had learned to heed the Daedric prince's advice, and it wasn't long before she got over the shock, dashing back inside to pack immediately. Shaking Aryon awake, she countered his confused look by shoving his empty pack onto his lap. "Red Mountain is going to erupt. Azura wants us to get as many out as we can."

He rose as quickly as could be expected, feeling somewhat dumbfounded. "What?"

Showing her hand quickly enough to point to Nerevar's ring, she went about stashing away as much as she could in her pack. "It's just like before, with Dagoth Ur. We can't stay in Morrowind much longer, and neither can anyone else. We won't be able to save everyone, but we have to do what we can."

Being of the Telvanni, it was in their nature to ignore things outside of their own cares, but neither of them had really had that disposition. They had always been more involved in everything going on, from the Ashlander relations to the way goods were traded. Aryon had also known her for too long to wonder that she suddenly received a vision from Azura. There had been more than one before, and all had come true. He himself had seen other followers of Azura have much the same experience. As a Dunmer, he knew that the Daedric lords were quite real indeed, even if their motives were often questionable. Azura, on the other hand, had a kinship with the Dunmer especially, and he didn't find it hard to believe that she was watching over them. "If Azura says we're to go, then we must go. I'll send off as many messages as I can. If they will come, then they will. If not..."

"It can't be helped." She stopped for a moment in her packing, suddenly seeing beyond sight, more thoughts and images flooding into her. "A war. There is blood, fire, more death. Other Argonians." Shaking her head against the sensations, she became more hasty in her preparations. "We will need to be careful, I think, once we leave Vvardenfell. If my kin are truly preparing to fight us, we need to get well out of their range. I strongly doubt they would allow even me to live."

"No, probably not." They hadn't addressed her status among other Argonians much during her time on Vvardenfell. It hadn't mattered, with everything else that had been happening, but now the sudden threat of others of her kind loomed as a very real danger. She would be killed just as coldly as any other Telvanni, even if she hadn't taken part in the darker methods of the others. Sensing her trepidation, he came closer to her, giving an embrace she hadn't known she was wanting. "Some days you are so much more Dunmer than Argonian, I almost forget. I forget that you never knew what it was to be among your own people. I'll never understand that about you."

"There's no need," she reassured him, returning the embrace unconsciously. "I'm not a Dunmer, nor am I Argonian or Imperial or anything else." Pulling back from him she offered him one of her trademark toothy grins. "I am just myself, and it's all I can ever be."


	2. Chapter 2

That had been almost two hundred years ago, in another time and another place, seeming so many lifetimes ago. Laje-tal struggled to her feet, coughing up the small amount of blood in her mouth. Digging her claws into the dirt, arms straining against the pain and weakness in her muscles, she finally rose, looking around to see where she had ended up. The attack had come by surprise, catching her while she had been asleep. Skyrim had seemed so safe in the wilderness, only filled with bears and giants. In the night, several bandits had attacked, not one of them realizing who they were fighting against. She had taken them out easily enough, but her magicka was drained nearly to the point of collapse soon after.

"Always overdoing it, aren't you?" she asked herself rhetorically, groaning as she stood straighter. Those bandits hadn't known that she was an ex-Telvanni, and even though they outnumbered her twelve to one, she had enough will to go around. It had been too long since she had summoned up so much power and she had to admit it felt good. For now she stifled the energy that still burned in her blood, checking the landscape for anything resembling civilization. The nords were accepting enough of magic to a point, but an Argonian mage was an oddity enough on its own; she didn't need her magic to spontaneously combust on top of everything else.

Staggering down a dirt trail, she picked her way down to a poorly kept but clear road, following a direction at random. One way or the other, a road led to water and then to towns. From there she could regroup. Suddenly a slight splat of water hit her nose and she looked to the sky with a groan. "By Azura, what now?" Her question was answered soon enough as more drops of water fell to the ground, splashing about as it rained steadily harder until the din almost drowned out her thoughts. Almost.

As she trudged on miserably in the pouring rain, looking for a temporary shelter, she was once again lost in the many thoughts that roiled through her mind. This place was so different from home. Back then, she didn't know where she was escaping to. Morrowind, and then the province of Vvardenfell, had always been her home. Outside of it were strange, foreign lands that she had only heard of. Azura had directed her to go north and then west, so she did as guided, bringing with her all in her household that had heeded her vision. It couldn't have been more well timed. Any later and there would have been no escape at all, only death. Only the violent explosion of Red Mountain destroying her stronghold and nearly all else on the continent.

"Ah, Aryon, I bet you are laughing at me right now, wherever you are. Nerevar reborn, mucking through the mud in Skyrim, picking fights with idiot bandits, looking for any sign of you." Spotting an outcropping of rock, she darted under it, finally free of the dense rain. It wasn't exactly a warm inn and a bed, but there was enough dry wood about to make a fire so she couldn't complain. As soon as she set up a small fire, trying to dry out as much she could before it got any colder, her attention was drawn to the rolling clouds outside, scudding quickly as the winds pushed them forward.

"I should have known better than to expect anything else. I'm doomed for all eternity to trudge through whatever falls in my path." She hadn't understood what Azura meant back then. The curse of flesh part of the Nerevarine prophecy made sense enough, but she hadn't realized the true meaning of how blight nor age would harm the Nerevarine. She hadn't thought it would make her truly immortal. Though there were many in House Telvanni that extended their lives indefinitely through various spell methods, she herself hadn't dabbled in it much. The ways of the Hist were about life, death and renewal. Despite having been born and raised outside of her homeland, she still felt connected to the Hist, just as any other Argonian. Without the cycle of death, she was stuck as she was for who knew how long.

Every day, she set forth on some new or continued task, always looking for the next adventure. Some called her a local hero, some called her brave or courageous. Inside, she wasn't any of these things. Each new adventure was in hope of finding something, anything that might help her find Aryon again. They had become separated in Skyrim during the Forsworn Rebellion. When Azura had said west, she took it quite literally, going as west as she possibly could in Skyrim and into Markarth, where they had lived quietly in the outskirts until the Forsworn had come about and attacked. Naturally they attacked back but in the confusion they became separated and she hadn't seen him since. She had fled all the way past Falkreath to lay low during the two years of war, avoiding more Forsworn as they pushed east. There was always the possibility he had been killed, but she doubted it. He was just as much of a powerful mage as she was.

"I can't do this." Kicking her campfire out into the rain, she left her small shelter, going out once again onto the road. The rain didn't matter anymore. It was cold, hard and hit her skin like pellets of ice but it was distracting. Under this torrent, she could think clearly. "I can't give up, not even after twenty five years of looking. I have to think of something."

It was dark, cold and wet. The only good thing about this was that her dark scales and coloring easily blended into the night and made her nearly invisible. Creatures nearby were either avoiding being out in the open or were asleep, so she made it to a nearby building without opposition. Looking up, she saw a sign for the inn flapping in the wind, Braidwood Inn of Kynesgrove. "It's about time," she grumbled, her energy returning somewhat as she walked into the inn. A fresh wave of wonderful heat hit her face, and against her usual composure she sighed with relief. She took a moment to get warm by the fire, ignoring the greeting from the innkeeper. It wouldn't dry her off quickly, but she didn't care. It was warm and it was there right now.

A few other people lingered nearby, talking, eating, or listening to the bard sing. They tried their best to not look like they were secretly watching the unusual traveler, but she felt their stare like a weight on her shoulders. At least she was used to it. Even after these many years, she was still gawked at by every human and even many of the elves. In Markarth, she had been able to come and go more or less unnoticed, the natives used to her presence, but it no longer bothered her. Finally warm enough to move again, she approached the bar at the back, ordering a plain ale and stew. Somehow the Nord mead never sat with her right.

Iddra served her quickly, leaning back with a sympathetic look on her face. "Did Ulfric kick you out too, Argonian? Seems every day he's finding someone lingering out of the Gray Quarter, he kicks them out for the day and they've got no place to come but here. Not that I dislike all the new business I get."

She recognized the name of the Stormcloaks leader, but she hadn't heard much of the situation in Windhelm. "No, I haven't been to Windhelm yet."

"Yet? You really want to go there? I wouldn't if I were you, he isn't fond of anyone who isn't a Nord. Whatever you're doing out there, I'd avoid going anywhere near the place."

Laje-tal only huffed quietly. "Ulfric doesn't scare me. He's just a man." Taking a good gulp of ale, she grinned a toothy grin. "I don't care if I have to lift Ulfric's boot off the floor to look beneath it, he won't stop me from my search."

Caught off guard by the other's tenacity, she couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous it was. "If you say so. What are you looking for? Maybe someone around here could help you."

For a moment, she considered it. If she could avoid Windhelm she would. Though she was hardly worried about being in the place, she still found it distasteful. It wouldn't hurt to ask around. "I am looking for a Dunmer. I've been searching the west for many years, working my way east. I have looked every place that Dunmer were said to gather, and now I've come here as many have said that the Dunmer largely settled here."

"Hmm." Taking a brief look around, making sure nobody else needed anything, she leaned back against the bar, tired. "You might not be able to avoid Windhelm, then. There are some dark elves in the Gray Quarter, it's the only place in Windhelm they're safe. Nothing else, there's a bar down in the quarter, they might at least know where there are others. Can't help you much on that."

She waved off the other's apology with a grunt. "I didn't expect you to. Finding Dunmer here is hard enough. They keep out of sight of the Nords, but it means I can't find them easily either. I suppose there's no helping it." Sliding a handful of coins down the bar, she put down her empty bottle and bowl with an exhausted clank. "I'll take a room for the night."

"Coming right up." Shoving off from the bar edge she led her guest to the room, gesturing grandly into the small enclosure. "Cozy enough, trust me. Alright, any people after your blood I should know about?"

Laje-tal only chuckled, shaking her head. "Not yet. Give it time, there will be." Relieved to have a safe place to sleep at last, she closed the door, stripping off her wet clothes and laying them to dry over the chair and nearby dresser, changing into a dry set. The next moments blurred into nothing, fading away as she dropped into the bed to sleep, barely even managing to pull the covers over before losing consciousness. Tomorrow was another day, but she was finally hopeful after such a long, fruitless search.

* * *

Morning came, and of course she had slept longer than she had planned to, but the rest was worth it. She woke with renewed determination, and she had the energy to back it up. Her wet clothes had dried out enough to be packed away, but they were stiff and crusty from who knew how many residues on them. The mage robes she had on now were at least clean, so she wasted no more time and headed out of the inn, ignoring any who greeted her. She wasn't in any mood for pleasantries.

North of Kynesgrove, she followed the stony road all the way to the gates of Windhelm, pausing long enough to look up at them with frustration. A guard looked at her for longer than she was comfortable with so she moved on, not letting the other have the satisfaction of seeing her cringe. They couldn't do anything to her as long as she didn't do anything wrong, but she knew they were watching her closely for any small thing. It was best to keep moving.

Her first impression of Windhelm wasn't a good one. Nords accosting a Dunmer woman simply going about her business didn't bode well, but she stopped the encounter quickly enough, going as far as brawling with one of them. Against her years of experience and training they were just annoyances. The woman, who had wisely backed away during the fight, now approached her with an appreciative gaze. "That was impressive, Argonian. It's not every day that someone puts Rolff in his place. I don't know how I could begin to thank you for your help."

Laje-tal only shrugged. She somehow found herself doing these things everywhere she went anyway. "It was nothing." Pausing briefly, she took a quick look around the oddly organized city. "Well, maybe you can help me after all. I am looking for a Dunmer man, looks about your age. He is a great wizard and has connections to the great houses. Do you know anyone like that?"

"I don't think so," she said uncertainly. "There is one from House Hlaalu, but he isn't a wizard. I'm not sure about any others from the old houses. Some had no affiliation at all, and a great wizard wouldn't be able to stay here long without Ulfric getting nervous. Maybe Ambarys would know where to look. Go down into the Gray Quarter and look for the New Gnisis Cornerclub, Ambarys should know more about the others here." She took a quick breath of air in suddenly. "Oh, and be careful around here. Argonians stay down by the docks if they can help it, the guards are known to rough up any who are too bold."

"I'll keep that in mind," she promised, already eager to head further into the city, guards be damned. "Thanks for the information." Without any more hesitation she walked quickly to the back of the city, down into the broken alleys of the Gray Quarter. At first it looked much like the rest of the city, albeit more run down, but several brightly colored banners waving in the breeze caught her attention. "A little touch of home, hm? Maybe they will have a few drinks from Morrowind." Not risking any more words lest anyone overhear her, she moved faster down the narrow alley. It wasn't common knowledge that she was still alive. On the contrary, it had been quite a business covering her escape. Luckily there had been an Argonian volunteer that looked enough like her to spread rumors that she had run to Akavir just before the Oblivion crisis, and during the crisis all who had seen her had died or hadn't noticed her in the confusion.

The New Gnisis Cornerclub wasn't much to look at, but it did remind her of Gnisis – the wooden, run down miner shacks in Gnisis, anyway. She was hardly picky, though, and the idea of something other than Nord fare was too appetizing to pass up. Taking care on the uneven street as she entered, a familiar smell of spices and food met her the moment she came in, drawing her further inside. A Dunmer man swept the floor nearby, another tended the bar. Assuming the one at the bar was Ambarys, she took a stool at the bar, asking what was good on the menu.

Ambarys gave her an odd look but gave her the run down nonetheless. "The usual things you'd find around here, plus a few brews from our homeland. I haven't seen you around here before, Argonian. Are you a new worker at the docks?"

"Hardly," she said with a scoff. "I'm a battlemage, couldn't you tell?"

He backed away, taking in her clothing. "Not every day you see an Argonian battlemage. You'd better be careful out there, Ulfric doesn't appreciate our like getting too close to his little castle, especially the mages."

"I know, and I don't care. He would find out quickly that picking a fight with me would cause him more harm than good. You said you had some brews from Morrowind?"

Smiling at her conviction, he took a calmer pose. "I do. I managed to save some sujamma and mazte, along with a bit of Cyrodiilic brandy from the Imperials. There isn't much, but it's just as much for sale as anything else I have. We've had a handful of shipments coming in from Solstheim where it's still being made."

Her attention caught with that one. "Solstheim? Well now... I suppose that makes sense. There's probably plenty enough ash to grow just about anything native to Vvardenfell there. Well why not, I'm getting tired of the same thing over and over. How about some of that mazte?"

"A fine choice, to be sure." He took out a larger sized jug, taking the pay for it and passing it over. "So what brings an Argonian battlemage to a place like Windhelm?"

She waited until she had taken a swig of the mazte, savoring the flavor for the first time in at least two hundred years. "This is very good indeed. I'm not sure if you can help me, but you seem just as good as anyone to know. I have been looking for a Dunmer, he is older but he still looks young, and he was once allied with House Telvanni and was a great wizard there. From what I could tell, most of the Dunmer of Skyrim are here or near here, but I haven't found anything so far."

Ambarys looked at her with a guarded expression, taking the odd situation with a dash of skepticism. "A Telvanni wizard? How in all the planes of Oblivion did an Argonian battlemage and a Telvanni wizard even have the chance to meet?"

Being cautious with her wording, she explained with a carefully plain tone. "We knew each other in Markath. We were both drawn to the mysteries of Dwarven constructs and started talking after ending up at the same exhibit in the Dwemer museum there. He had several theories about the workings of the machinery there, and before you knew it, we had become friends. It didn't matter to him that I was an Argonian, we were only interested in ruins. We lost track of each other during the Markarth Incident and I haven't seen him since, not for lack of trying."

"An interesting tale." He paused to think, cleaning a glass absently. "The only Telvanni mage I know of is on the isle of Solstheim. He does know quite a bit about Dwemer ruins, he lives near a site in Tel Mithryn. Has a whole Telvanni style tower, all in a small holding. Sound like your man?"

Feeling hopeful but not wanting to get too excited, she perked up, eyes lighting with interest. "That does sound like him, though I'm not sure why he would go to Solstheim. I suppose since we had both taken an interest in the Dwemer ruins there, he thought I might come there. What was the name of this mage?"

"I believe it was Neloth, one of the former masters of the house. He escaped some time during the Red Year, looking to explore the island or something along that line."

"Fantastic," she said glumly, voice dripping with sarcasm. "No, I'm not looking for Neloth, although I might go see him now that I know he is there. If nothing else I know he would be glad to have some blanks filled in on his research." She also owed him a good punch for disappearing during the Oblivion crisis. "No, I'm afraid he's not the one I'm looking for."

Malthyr, who had been silent until now, spoke up at that. "There are a few Dunmer that visit that outpost to the east, leaving offerings to the dead. It's been used as a message post for anyone looking to reunite with people they can't find for a long time. If nothing else you could try to leave a message there. Almost every Dunmer I know knows about that post. Anyone looking for someone should go there."

"An outpost?" she questioned, her horned brows raising higher. "They leave offerings at an outpost?"

"Not much else they could do. We didn't have the luxury of building ancestral tombs here, and most of the ones that already existed were torn apart by the eruption. They still had a proper burning, but the ashes were buried here in Skyrim, the land that was supposed to welcome us and take us in." He grunted with a sneer. "Well never mind that. They were buried here so everyone could have a place to visit them. If you follow the road east from here, you'll see it eventually. It's past the farms, but it's easy to spot from the road."

"Might as well give it a try." Even if Aryon had passed away after all, she at least had a place to offer her respects, no matter where he had ended up. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, but it was worth it to prepare for that possibility. "I don't suppose you have any ash yams, do you? I've heard it's customary to leave them as an offering for a Dunmer. Just in case... in case he has died."

Ambarys leaned over the bar, handing her an ash yam. "I do have a few from the last shipment. No charge. Never expected an Argonian to know our traditions, but I guess your friend was a good friend indeed. Just make sure and offer my respects as well. It's hard escaping this city as it is."

"Of course." She took it gratefully, considering whether she should tell him more. It had been a long time since she had had a chat with someone from Morrowind. "I was originally from Morrowind myself, so knowing your customs was something I had learned from the start. Honestly I don't know much about Black Marsh, living next to Dunmer and Imperials my whole life." Finishing off the last of the mazte, she rose from the tall stool, preparing to leave. "Thanks for the help." Leaving the bar with a small bit of hope, she walked through the cramped alley and left the obnoxious city, heading east along the road. With any luck she would make it by midday.

Cold wind beating at her back, she raised her hood to try and keep warm. Such a thing was hard at best in the high altitudes of this place but she had survived worse. Quaint farms, one owned by the former Hlaalu she had heard about, stretched out along the road. Snowberries grew everywhere, clustering into every crack in the cold earth and giving company to lone trees. In the distance lay an abandoned building, which she avoided out of habit. Places like that were always crawling with something and she didn't feel like bothering with it right now. She pushed onward, heading to the tower now appearing in the distance.

Aside from a pair of frost trolls attacking her the moment she came near, the outpost was everything she had expected. It was worn down, beaten up, and full of bones and random items. A rough stone wall outside lined a makeshift graveyard, each mound labeled with a simple wood post. Taking a moment to view the two stone structures serving as monuments at each end, she chose one at random and knelt to place the ash yam at the base. She wasn't the type to pray. Even though she had been helped by Azura in escaping, she had never prayed to the Daedric lord. Somehow she got the feeling that Azura didn't mind. Instead she stayed silent, simply offering her respect in her own way, listening to the wind as it drifted over the snow.

Every day she lingered there at the ruins. Days passed, then a week. She came without fail, staying the day and wandering to Kynesgrove at night. As each day passed it became more and more disappointing but it was her only hope and she clung to it ruthlessly. Today she stood and stared at the graves she had memorized, puffs of mist hovering about her as her warm breath hit the chilly air. Something strange was in that air, she could feel it. Something was different. With a small smile to herself she relished in the change, knowing her efforts hadn't been in vain. He had come after all.

* * *

He hadn't expected there to be someone else at the monument today. Most times few came by here, sometimes the occasional Dunmer, but seeing an Argonian was very strange indeed. Aryon had spent the last few years frequenting places in the east, keeping an eye out for any Argonians, anyone who might know where Laje-tal had gone to. No matter what curious looks he got as a result, he never stopped looking for the student-turned-master that had changed his life forever. At the beginning of his term in House Telvanni, he had known and understood the wants of the other masters to simply be left alone to their work, but he also understood the need for allies in perilous times. He had been desperate for any ally who could help him overturn the stagnation of the house, but the prospects had been poor. After Divayth Fyr turned down the offer to join forces with him, he had needed to make a very careful set of decisions.

To his surprise and amusement, Laje-tal had risen through the Telvanni ranks with ease. She was a natural mage and had little trouble with every task he had set before her. That she was an Argonian only made it all the more amusing to watch. When she had one day come back with a serious look on her face, having defeated Gothren in single combat, everything had changed. It wasn't funny anymore. They had made the most crucial maneuver in getting the house back on its feet. She had persuaded him to take leadership from Gothren in her stead, knowing an Argonian leader would only make things worse, and he had accepted, passing their orders through his messages alone.

Despite himself, he had grown a strange affection for his student. Though he had his misgivings at first, being what they were, they had always been of a similar mind, taking interest in the Dwemer ruins and architecture, researching the mysteries of the arcane. It hadn't been long before they developed a bond beyond that of mutual admiration and respect. Though the initial realization had happened due to the heat of the moment, it had become quite real in a short time. For a while, everything had gone on well enough all things considered, at least until that day everything had fallen apart.

It had to be her. He knew those markings on her tail, they were too distinct to be anyone else. At a loss for words, he shoved back his mage hood, approaching her quietly. She had sensed him by now, he knew. Finally regaining enough composure to laugh at his own ridiculous hesitation he came just a bit closer as she turned, startled by his sudden laughter. Rising to her feet quickly, she couldn't keep the amusement and shock out of her voice. "You see me for the first time in twenty five years and all you can do is laugh?"

Simply closing the gap and tugging her into a tight embrace, he nodded against her shoulder. "Glad to see you too," he muttered sarcastically, drawing back to look at her fully. Not surprisingly she hadn't changed much since he last saw her, though her clothing was different. "After I had to run all the way to Winterhold to avoid the fighting I thought I'd never find you again."

"Winterhold? Ah why did I not think of that place? It should have been the first place I had searched, what with the College there. I got pinned down south near Falkreath those long two years, I could hardly leave the mountains. I can't imagine why I didn't think to go towards Winterhold."

"It's better that you didn't," he said with a grimace. "The Nords in the area are especially nervous around mages, those in the college bar entry to anyone who isn't a mage. I had to hide even from mages!"

She grinned widely. "What, you didn't want to join their little club?"

"Hardly." Releasing her from their embrace, he looked out into the distance absently. "It's freezing out here. I don't know how they stand it."

To be honest, the cold was finally getting to her too. Glancing over, she looked at his strange clothing that she hadn't noticed before. It looked like an assortment of all sorts of things, layered for warmth all on top of a battered mage robe. Strange, how the years had brought back a nervous distance, neither of them quite sure what to do now that they found each other. Laje-tal pulled her cloak closer, shuddering in the chill, trying to initiate some sort of normal conversation. "I'm sure you don't want to end up in Windhelm any more than I do but there is a place in the city that has a few treasures you might be interested in."

He looked at her skeptically. "Oh? What sort of treasures could those Nords have?"

"Not Nords, other Dunmer. Mazte and sujamma straight from Solstheim, and a fair price too, considering. Oh, also apparently Neloth is still alive."

Aryon scoffed. "That old mudcrab is a permanent fixture, always knowing when to get out of the way. I had heard he moved to Solstheim but after that eruption it was hard to tell if anyone lived through it."

She smiled at that, seeing the Aryon she remembered under that travel-weary gaze."I really missed you."

Usually more reserved about their affections, he didn't hesitate to pull her back into his arms, giving her a chaste but meaningful kiss. "I missed you too, love." They both shuddered as a particularly cold blast of wind hit them. "I know I won't miss this cold. Let's get out of here." Bearing as much against the wind as they could, they headed towards Windhelm slowly.

Idly she wondered what sort of reception they would receive if they went to Solstheim to look up their... old friend. Neloth had always been an eccentric type, not really caring who or what got in his way as long as the end result was more answers for his research. He hadn't cared in the least about her involvement in the house, either, as long as everything continued as normal. Even now he probably wouldn't care if they came to visit, he would just go on as if nothing had ever happened and insist they help him test a new spell. It would be the first semblance of normalcy they would have since the eruption.

Dusk had settled on Windhelm by the time they arrived, drenching everything in waning light. One of the first things they saw was the man she had punched senseless after he had accosted the Dunmer woman. It was enjoyable to see him avoid her with a wary gaze. Aryon eyed her suspiciously. "You sure do know how to charm the masses, don't you?"

"I always have," she remarked with a wry grin. "The Nords here won't like us much, and he was the worst of the bunch. I doubt they will bother us, though, after watching the wolf run away with his tail between his legs."

He sighed an amused sigh, shaking his head helplessly. "You haven't changed one bit."

She only shrugged, leading the way down into the Gray Quarter. It was strange how this area of town felt more comfortable than the nice, well kept area on the western half of the city, but that was the funny thing about nostalgia. One would gladly wipe away the dust, knowing what lay underneath. They stopped outside the cornerclub and she turned to him, watching him look around. "It isn't much, I know, but everyone here has done the best they can to make it livable."

"All considered, they did well to do this much." Feeling the eyes of a guard on their backs, he followed right after her into the bar, escaping into the small haven. A few people were inside, having come down from the market or up from the docks, enjoying dinner and drinks after a long day. They somehow managed to grab the left corner table without being greeted, but it wasn't long before Malthyr came back into the bar with a full crate of drinks. As soon as he noticed them, he set the crate down near the bar, going over to greet them immediately.

Clearly Malthyr was hiding his amusement as he peered at each of them, settling on a grin. "Well now, what will it be for you two?"

Laje-tal waved him off with a clawed hand. "Mazte, of course."

"I just got another shipment from Raven Rock, they finally sent me some of the older brews we've been begging for. Some of those Nords might find their shipments missing a thing or two but you better believe everything we order comes to us all in however many pieces we requested. If the Argonians are right, I may even have some flin in there." He then turned to the stranger, still not sure how to handle a great wizard's presence here. Many Telvanni were known to be very particular, but a customer was a customer and if the man wanted a drink then he was going to get one. "And what can I get for you, sir? Your friend here mentioned something about you when she was last here but she left out the most important part! What sort of drink would suit your fancy?"

Aryon laughed lightly, sparing his companion a mischievous glance. "It would be just like my wife to leave out such a crucial detail. I'll gladly take a Cyrodiilic brandy if you have it."

"I just so happen to have a very fine year in the back, it's..." He halted, suddenly realizing what had just been said. "Your wife? She's your wife?" A few heads from the other side of the bar turned at his raised voice, eyebrows already threatening to twitch. Laje-tal hushed him with a warning glare.

"As much as I love him, I'd rather you not shout it loud enough for city of Whiterun to hear it. It's hard enough as it is." As quickly as she had retaliated, though, she sighed, giving up the argument. "Never mind, it was bound to happen anyway."

If they hadn't been so serious he wouldn't have believed it. Argonians and Dunmer had been mortal enemies since the first skirmish, and though some real friendships had been forged between individuals, especially in an environment that forced them to coexist, even those strong bonds were regularly strained by the tensions between their races. Marriage, especially one formed out of love, was another matter entirely. Both races took such a thing very seriously. Still, this war and many others had created many far stranger things, so he didn't question it further. "No worries, nobody here will tell the people that have no business knowing. I'll grab your drinks, Ambarys should be back soon with more. Gotta have plenty for the evening rush."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Laje-tal turned back to Aryon, keeping her voice low. "We never were very good at keeping too many secrets, were we?"

He merely shook his head. "It just doesn't seem to matter as much as it used to." With a sigh, he leaned back, trying to get comfortable. "At least here we have people we know."

"Right, it wasn't so easy in Markarth," she said with a groan. "Every so often we would have to move so they wouldn't catch on that I wasn't aging. You, we could explain easily, but Argonians are lucky if they make it past one hundred, and twice that is impossible. So many things have happened, it feels like such a long time ago, but I'm the same as I was that day in Ilunibi."

Knowing she still had mixed feelings about her immortality, he reassured her just the way he had always done. "I got it too, you know." He gestured to his covered left arm where some of his skin was still slightly blemished from catching corprus disease from her. "Even Divayth wasn't sure his potion would work, but it is what it is. All he could do was stop the ill effects, and we were lucky for that much." Suddenly changing the topic, not wanting to think about what had bothered them both since they realized their fate, he tried smiling against their troubles. "What have you been doing for the last twenty five years out there?"

She knew a dodge when she heard it but they hadn't lasted this long by arguing. It would come up another time and they would think about it when it came. They had the time. "Hiding, mostly. I did what I could to stay in the thick of Imperial territory whenever possible but they had their own troubles too. They were fighting the Forsworn as much as anyone else, it was all a long, bloody mess. I stayed near Falkreath for most of the war, moving east all the way to Ivarstead. After that, I looked for you. I had no idea what had happened to you."

"It's quite a tale," he said with a grim smile. "I tried to stay near Markarth but there were too many Forsworn everywhere and they pushed out in any direction they could, scattering forces everywhere. It was brilliant, really. They weren't as numerous as the armies they eventually were defeated by so they used scatter tactics to break any formations they came across. I had a hard time staying in the cities, and once I heard about the statue of Azura, I figured I would be better off in the wilderness. From time to time I would go out to the outpost, seeing if there were any names I recognized. There are a few we know here."

"That's good." For many years they had been unsure of what had happened to those they hadn't brought along with them. In the chaos it had been impossible to tell, but now more and more details were becoming clearer as they looked into it. "Any word of what became of that ship of yours?"

"The Pride of Tel Vos? I still don't know why they insisted on calling it that." Frowning, he shifted slightly. "I heard a Dunmer down in Riften is looking for the wreck. Ran aground up north. I haven't had time to look into it yet but it's good to know at least someone survived. Still, I left that blasted thing with my best sailors to get as many out as they could. It must have been some storm."

"Damn." She shared her own frown, gripping the hilt of the sword at her hip reflexively. "Many of those slaves I freed from the other Telvanni were on that ship. Well, we can't really know they didn't survive. There might have been a few."

"I hope so." They quieted down when Malthyr came by with their drinks, but started up again as soon as he left. Aryon looked at her one gloved hand, knowing what was there. Nerevar's ring, the one thing she had never wanted to part with. It was one of only a few things they still had from their time in Morrowind, all the rest gone to the corners of the world. "You still have it." It wasn't a question, and he knew she understood what he meant.

She nodded. "A few of the gifts the ashlanders gave me survived the raid. Luckily they preferred smaller things. I had an easier time rescuing them." From her small pack she took out a star shaped amulet known as the teeth of the Urshilaku, passing it over to him. "Remember this?"

"I haven't seen this one in a while. It was in that old display case if I remember right."

"They gave it to me after I passed their trials. They and the Zainab were so understanding with me in spite of everything. I don't think they wanted an Argonian to play the part any more than anyone else did, but they gave me the fairness of a chance." Stashing away the amulet she finally had some of her mazte, stopping the line of conversation now that more people had come in after finishing up at the docks. Sometimes she wished she could tell someone besides Aryon about all of the things she had been through, that they had both been through, but the few she had confided in before were probably dead. Maybe a couple Dunmer still knew her but it was a matter of finding them. Even then their conversations would have to be just like this; hushed, secretive and rarely mentioned again.

Aryon watched her more closely, having an idea what she was thinking about. He never knew how he had come to understand her so clearly and she understood him in return, but love was strange like that. From the beginning he knew how hard it was to keep everything hidden like they did, but he knew it was for their own safety. After being attacked by the Dark Brotherhood, it had been a harsh wakeup call in more ways than one. As powerful as they were, even after taking the fight to the Dark Brotherhood face to face, they knew they had to change what they were doing. The eruption of Red Mountain hadn't been only a tragedy, it had also been a liberation. In the aftermath they disappeared, spreading false rumors and going in the opposite direction they had been advertised going. It had been a lifetime or two of running. "I'm tired of running too."

Glad for his perception despite the years they spent apart she nodded, feeling the weight of it heavily as she did so. "I'm very tired of it. I don't want to run anymore."

Ignoring their usual agreement to not show affection in public he laid his right hand over her gloved one, firm enough to feel the moon and star ring dig into his palm. "Maybe we don't have to anymore. The Dark Brotherhood is in shambles now, most disputes are settled with small bands of hired muscle and the like, if not by single combat alone. Imperials and Stormcloaks have their armies but they are too busy killing each other to worry about us."

"The Thalmor, though..."

"Too busy protecting their interests. They might be mildly interested in us at first but I know we would make it not worth their time to be too interested. You defeated _him_, after all. What would they really do even if they knew everything?" Taking in her startled expression he smiled slightly. "I have considered this, after watching all of the happenings around here. A few of the visitors of the shrine to Azura know who I really am, and nothing has happened so far. With all of the current troubles we would probably get no more attention than Neloth does."

"Maybe." She didn't withdraw her hand but she still distanced herself with a distracted glance."It would still be risky."

"And everything we have done until now wasn't?" Feeling more powered by his reason he grew more excited by the idea. "What are a bunch of Nords after the Sixth House? After the accession war? The Oblivion crisis? The eruption? It's nothing!"

Taken back by his courage she reassessed her stance on their situation. Maybe after everything, this was just a small rock on top of a pile of many bigger rocks. With a smile she recalled an Argonian proverb a former slave had told her. "The shifting rock makes way for the trees."

"That it does, sometimes a bit too well! Nothing like a hundred roots growing into your dungeon to remind you of that."

Remembering the state of the underground portion of Tel Vos brought a small chuckle out of her. "Yes, this time around you would know to build the house first, then the dungeon."

It had been a sarcastic remark but he took a moment to really consider it. "I wonder how the Nords would like a Telvanni stronghold out in their mountains."

That earned him a peculiar look. "I do hope you're joking."

"Well why not? I'm sure someone has land for sale somewhere. Those mushrooms are very hardy, they could easily withstand even the winters here. Once they realized what was going on it would be too late. Besides, if the land was owned legally, they wouldn't have any say in how that land was used anyway. The Nords are nothing if not honorable about their trades and sales."

She considered it seriously now, knowing he would give her all the time she needed to think. In all honesty she liked the idea of going back to something similar to what they had before, never mind the danger. Still, there was one more thing bothering her. "I'm just worried that the Nords would take a Telvanni structure as a direct threat and turn their attentions to Morrowind. They are already suffering so badly they wouldn't stand a chance, even with House Redoran watching them."

"I don't think they would. Telvanni are known for keeping to their own affairs and not meddling around. They would complain for a while but once they saw nothing was happening, they would let us be and go back to the Imperials. If this war has done anything good at all it has made it easier to move around and avoid unwanted attention."

"Let's just think about it for a while." Taking back her hand she tugged off her glove, revealing the moon and star. "For now, I'll just let this go. If someone recognizes me, they recognize me. If not, that's alright too. I won't be afraid of myself anymore."

He shot her a small smile. "It's a good start." They were halfway through their jugs and with only a glance at each other they traded drinks, pouring the different beverage into their cups. It was something they had done at many taverns before, usually getting bored with the same thing halfway through. Once they noticed what they had unconsciously done despite the years of separation they shared an amused grin, going back to enjoying the evening hours quietly.

In the other corner of the bar an Argonian man had been watching, his friend at the table trying to keep him from doing so. Neetranza and Shahvee had been sharing the usual sort of conversation, nothing out of the ordinary until the Dunmer and Argonian woman had come in together. It wouldn't have seemed strange except that they sat at the same table, sharing the sorts of glances that definitely went beyond the standard friendly type some of the Dunmer here shared with the dock workers. No, the Dunmer and Argonians around here got along like a wet cat and dog caught under the same cave in a rainstorm.

"Stop staring, Neetranza. You know you wouldn't want the same for yourself."

Neetranza turned to Shahvee, letting out an unrepentant grunt. "Well, they're asking for it."

"It doesn't matter. Life is hard enough for it as it is without complicating it with gossip and nonsense."

"No thanks to your Zenithar." Recoiling at her harsh glare he backed off a little. Very little. "Alright, never mind that. Never mind our clan traditions, our ways of living. Never mind any of it."

She frowned sharply. "You're miserable company. I would bet they are far more interesting than you are."

He simply dismissed her with a flip of his hand. "If I'm so miserable and they're so interesting why don't you go join them?"

"Now that is a fine idea indeed!" Rising from her chair with haughty energy, her tail flicking around behind her, she shoved in her chair, going over to the other side of the bar. She missed Neetranza's wide-eyed look as she sat down at the table, startling the two companions already there. Offering them an apologetic grin she gestured over her shoulder discreetly. "I don't mean to bother you but I had to show scales-for-brains over there that Dunmer and Argonians can be perfectly civil with each other. He has been trying to crawl under my hide all day."

Across from her Laje-tal looked at her with confused recognition. "Shahvee?"

Blinking, Shahvee leaned closer. "Ah, I remember you now! Yes, we met once before in Whiterun, right? Or maybe it was near there? Right, during the years after the Forsworn caused such a mess. I had saved up enough to make a trip there for some herbs I couldn't find here." She spared a glance at her Dunmer companion. "Well, I assume this is the one you were looking for? Your... friend?"

Even after knowing her for a short time, Laje-tal knew she could trust Shahvee. The other woman had been nothing but understanding no matter what life threw at her. It was one of the few times she corrected someone without hesitation. "No, my husband. Did you find the herbs you needed?"

"For the most part. I'm afraid they needed the lavender more than I did with the war going on." Looking at her friend's revealed husband in earnest now she gave him a wide smile, accepting him just as easily as anyone else. "Don't mind what anyone else says, you're welcome in Windhelm whenever you like. Shahvee will always be glad to have company."

Aryon seemed rather puzzled as she extended her hand but he recovered quickly enough, taking it in a brief greeting. "A pleasure. I'm Aryon, but maybe she told you that. I'm not sure what sorts of peculiar slanders my wife has been spreading about so let me know if she left anything good out."

Next to him Laje-tal only shook her head, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I'm sure after these many years I have enough to slander you from here to Black Marsh, I certainly left a good bit of it out."

The conversations in the bar turned lighter, everyone relaxed and enjoying themselves. As the evening waned and night approached they finally left the bar, considering where to spend the night. Candlehearth Hall was the only inn in Windhelm, and it wasn't quiet about not being welcoming to their type. At a loss they decided to travel outside the city into Kynesgrove. Cold and windy as it was, the skies were clear, the constellations glowing with perfect clarity. It had a harsh beauty, one they had appreciated during even the coldest nights in Markath. A night like this brought back pleasant memories of taking that old, battered telescope up to the heights of the mountains, mapping out the constellations until they were nearly frozen.

"A fair night like this shouldn't be wasted," Aryon suddenly said, gesturing to the sky. "There, the serpent, chasing the other signs."

They watched and discussed the stars as they walked to Kynesgrove, not caring how slow their pace might be. Talk soon went to the mysteries of the Dwemer, as it often did, along with the three books she had found on her journey to kill Dagoth Ur. One book had been found to just be an ordinary guide but the other two had raised dozens of unanswered questions. She still had them, another of the few things she simply had to save, even if they weren't much use. When they reached the inn at Kynesgrove they hadn't made much progress on their many questions but that wasn't quite what they set out to accomplish. Instead they had fallen back into the familiar, the things they missed, the things that might never be known but were still enthralling. It was almost as if those years apart had dissolved into nothing.

Everything in the inn was much the same as the night before, the locals going about their talk and biding the last few moments until they slept. The innkeeper was glad to see Laje-tal again, especially after seeing that she had succeeded in her quest to find Aryon. She hadn't even flinched when they asked for a double room, simply getting them what they asked for. It was a great relief to rest, to really and truly recover from their ordeals. There hadn't been anything else to say, not after already saying so much, so they simply took advantage of as long a sleep as they could. They couldn't know what the morning would surprise them with.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up to a loud roar wasn't exactly what they had hoped to wake to, but strange circumstances like this had become a way of life. They had dressed hastily and come out to stare at the sky just as everyone else did, watching as a large black dragon winged through the clouds. Granted, they had both been around a long time but one thing they had certainly never seen was a dragon, yet here it was, a large inky blot against the sky. Surprisingly it didn't attack, flying away in a straight line on some unknown goal. One of the bystanders pointed in the direction it came from, distressed.

"It came from the direction of Riverwood and Helgen! What could it mean?"

Laje-tal sighed, giving Aryon a significant look. "Somehow these things always find us, don't they?"

With a chuckle he only nodded ruefully. "I suppose it serves us right for complaining of boredom in the past. I guess we had better get on with it then, I do love a good new mystery to solve."

"Let's start in Riverwood, someone has to have at least seen something." As soon as they checked their supplies and restocked on the few things they needed, they started down the road north to Windhelm, intending to go west past the bridge and then southwest towards Whiterun. The trail through the Windhelm region was long and cold, filled with the peaceful quiet of the snowy woods. It was soon pierced by the howl of wolves and roars of the occasional bear, but whenever they were attacked the fights never lasted long. Once the road turned to the south, the weather improved gradually as they came out of the cold front moving inland. Hilly terrain filled with trees as far as the eye could see, and they knew it was stuffed with even more bears, sabre cats and giants with their mammoths.

The wars hadn't been kind to anyone, and their funds were running low. With any luck they would run across a deer or elk inattentive enough to be taken down with her bow. They would sell the bear pelts they had come across, but the bears weren't much for eating. The path was rough as it always was, the journey long and filled with animal attacks and having to intimidate bandits, but they reached Whiterun before dusk. Even around dusk the activity in the city was just as busy as ever, people coming and going through the shops and stalls of the markets, wandering the streets on errands. Their goal was the Bannered Mare, a prime place for all manner of information gathering.

The evening went about as expected. Rumors abounded about the mysterious dragon, but all agreed that it had come from further south in Helgen or Riverwood. Near that area was a well known barrow, as well as other landmarks such as the guardian stones. Word of the Stormcloak rebellion was also thick in the air but it had been so since the war started. A good hour or two passed as they gathered information while bartering and getting food and drink. Aryon all but rolled his eyes when Laje-tal started a brawl with a Nord woman out of boredom, both of them clearly enjoying the even battle. Mages they might be, but the Argonian had taken an equal interest in swordplay, archery and unarmed combat, leftovers from her Imperial upbringing – or maybe she just enjoyed punching the daylights out of everyone.

By the time they had finished the night had come more in earnest, the last rays of light glowing over Dragonsreach dimly. Having exhausted their need for more information, they took a look around the city, especially interested by the differing types of smithing work found here. Despite their interest in the new materials and techniques, it was still dull and before long they were both itching to find a practice arena. If there were dragons about they would need to be sharper than they were around the common bandits and wild animals, and it had been too long since they tested the true limits of their skills.

"You haven't gotten soft in all these years have you, Aryon?" Laje-tal grinned at him, brandishing her weapon teasingly. "I doubt you've spent all of that time praying to Azura."

"Not a chance." They had just arrived at the practice field behind the guild of the Companions, the area clear of bystanders. He drew his own sword, both blades a high quality Daedric make. "I think you will find I've learned a thing or two, and you had better watch that tail of yours."

"If you trip on it again it is your own fault for not watching it yourself. You know an Argonian's tail is as much a weapon as their claws." Almost as if in demonstration, her tail lashed behind her menacingly, entirely whiplike with a mind of its own. Her charge came suddenly but he was ready for it, blocking and executing a parry but getting blocked in return. They hadn't started off on the same level, Aryon being more of a mage and herself a dabbler in many things, but they had practiced like this many times over the long years, getting better and better until they were evenly matched. Neither could get the upper ground, even their new techniques too easy for the other to see through. It was the perfect stalemate.

The clash of blades had drawn a few spectators, some offering encouragements from the sidelines. Aryon dodged the tail coming straight at his head as she parried his blow and spun, knowing he would dodge the hit. She followed with a chain of successive strikes, finally jarring his blade enough to deaden the feeling in his hand. It was just enough to knock the blade from his hand, ending the fight. Taking his blade with a small bit of chagrin, shaking out his hand to get the feeling back in it, he turned a wry smirk on his wife. "Still can't quite get used to your strength, you must have been trying out warhammers."

"From time to time," she admitted. "It looks like we have a bit of a crowd."

He now turned his eyes to the spectators, most of them members of the Companions. They all exchanged a few words, jibes and advice before a new duo took to the training field, a Dunmer and one of the Nords. As dark as it was getting this would probably be the last spar, but everyone took places at the tables readily enough to watch it. These two weren't quite as skilled, naturally, but that was the purpose of a practice bout anyway. The fight intensified and both picked up speed as they eased into the familiarity of the traded blows. Before long the Dunmer was somewhat cornered, and in his desperation he said something that made Laje-tal cringe. Hard. "Nerevar guide me!"

Aryon turned to look at her slowly, eyes glowing with a hidden intense amusement. "Did you hear that? I think you had better go help him."

She glowered at him, not the least bit amused. "I'm not doing anything."

"He did ask for your help, though, and he asked it so nicely." Silently she cursed that smirk, the one that made her want to do the strange things he suggested she might do. Curse it. "Really, he could use it, his pose is all wrong."

Taking a look at the Dunmer she could see just as clearly that his pose was indeed wrong, the angle was too weak and he was just asking for a sword to the ribs. With a sigh she conceded to the suggestion, going over to the Dunmer to correct his pose. He was clearly surprised to see her approaching, and definitely not sure how to take help from an Argonian, but he had surely experienced his own issues with acceptance and he settled with being grateful for help from a superior swordfighter. "Hold the blade down like this. No, this. Guard your side, but don't keep it too high, you'll expose your legs too much."

Maintaining a sullen expression through her instruction he did what she suggested, albeit reluctantly. "I didn't ask for your help, you know."

Giving him a somewhat sardonic glance, she tilted her hand on his blade enough for him to see the moon and star. If she was to start revealing herself, this was as fine a place to begin as any. "Oh but you did. Now you have it. Take it or leave it, but don't ask for my help if you don't want it." Leaving him dumbfounded and wide eyed, she returned to stand in front of the seated Aryon, glaring at him half-heartedly. "Satisfied?"

Aryon only smiled, quite satisfied indeed. "Very, though I think you left him more in shock than educated. You really need to work on your speechcraft." Warding off her following frown he couldn't help but laugh. It had been too many years that he hadn't been able to laugh like this, and yet in this day alone he remembered how to again. Her eyes softened at his enjoyment, but it didn't stop her from looking at him expectantly. "Alright, alright, let's get out of here while we can. Yes, I knew what you were going to say, don't look surprised. I'm ready when you are."

Only managing a groan at his nonsense, she offered her hand to help him up. Once he took it and she pulled him to his feet, she spared a glance back at the Dunmer she had helped, still at a loss. "Let's go then, Aryon. We've done quite enough for one day." She didn't pull her hand back from their grip, allowing it as they walked back down the street towards the inn. It was a small concession, just as her revealing herself to the Dunmer, but she promised herself to take more small steps toward accepting the fact that they couldn't hide forever. There was no need to, and she realized it now. Come Dark Brotherhood, vampire assassins, bandits and mage lords, she was determined that none of it would drive them apart again. They would face this and everything else just as they had faced a thousand daedra..

* * *

Riverwood had been a dead end. The dragon had come from Helgen after all, so their journey stretched out further southwest, into the town that still burned. Though the fires had turned into smoldering flames, it was quite clear that the dragon had laid waste to it thoroughly. Little evidence of anything was left, and the only survivor they had found was an Imperial in a passage of caves nearby. They had managed to heal him enough to get him out of the caves, taking him back into Riverwood, but everything they picked up from it all was that they needed to go to Whiterun. Again. Still, Riverwood demanded extra guards on duty in light of there being dragons around, so here they were in Whiterun. Again.

The Jarl had taken the news of dragons about as well as expected. He had panicked, as was sane, and so had everyone else. To his credit he recovered just as quickly, issuing the extra guards immediately, looking into any and all information about them with an efficiency that even the two Telvanni could appreciate. Once when they had lost his attention, Aryon had said as much to her quietly. "I recall that Symmachus admired the human races for being pragmatic and resourceful, and rightfully so."

"I remember Barenziah saying much the same."

He remembered her sharing a few stories about the queen mother before. "Ah, that's right, you knew her for a while, didn't you?"

"I was in her guard caravan for a year after I left the Imperials, and then I saw her again during that mess with the Dark Brotherhood. She remembered me, and I guess you could have called us friends, but I don't know what happened to her afterward."

"Hopefully someone had the sense to send her on to Blacklight, but who knows."

In the corner, the housecarl Irileth had been watching him, but it was the mention of Blacklight that drew her attention back to them. Her eyes narrowed distrustfully as she moved close enough to them to speak. "And what exactly do you two intend to do here in Skyrim? A Dunmer, an Argonian... I wondered to myself what you might be plotting, but maybe it's just my old war senses getting to me again."

Taking the woman's sarcastic tone as lightly as possible, Laje-tal only shrugged. "We just came to investigate the troubles with the dragon. I could ask the same of you, Dunmer housecarl."

Irileth smirked at that, finally loosening her hard stare. "I suppose it is a hard thing to explain how someone like myself came to be in service of a Nord, but we knew each other and fought side by side. Sometimes a few good battles is all it takes to make a fast friend."

Sparing Aryon an amused look, she grinned her agreement. "That is hard to explain indeed. I suppose you'll be needing help with the dragons? Do you have anyone to spare?"

"Yes, my men are always at the ready. Still, I wouldn't refuse any small help you might give us."

The Jarl finally turned away from his steward, addressing all of them. "Dragons haven't been to this land since the first ages of man. Farengar has been doing research on these dragons in the past, he might at least know something more about what to do with them. If you have the time..."

Laje-tal sighed to herself, having the feeling she was being thrust into yet another adventure. Strangely it didn't bother her as much as she expected. "I did find a strange stone in one of the barrows nearby. There was also an odd wall filled with a language I didn't recognize, and yet..." She remembered how the wall had almost spoken to her, had put a thought into her like a word. Although she didn't understand it, she knew now it had to have been important somehow. "Never mind. Where is he?"

They were directed to the side of the castle where the mage lingered near a map, giving him the stone she had found in the barrow. He seemed pleased that she had it, having been looking for the thing already, but they had hardly gotten through the basics before a guard came running into the hold, shouting something about dragons. A watch tower nearby was under attack by a dragon, and it was unknown how the others were faring. Everything went by in a blur as Irileth gathered up her own guards, mustering the reinforcements quickly while the Jarl and his steward went over plans to defend the city if needed. To Laje-tal and Aryon, it felt like the Oblivion crisis all over again.

"We can't let this happen again," Laje-tal muttered to Aryon as they charged out into the field.

"We won't." Looking out at the stream of smoke that poured from the tower, his eyes narrowed at the memory of the fires that had burned in Vvardenfell. "After all those damned Oblivion gates, one dragon will be alright."

"There is that, at least." Nearby Irileth was giving them an even odder look, but luckily their goal and the chaos surrounding it was plenty enough of a distraction to leave it for later. Soon enough the dragon descended in the sky, its roar cutting loudly through the air. Smoke and fire inhibited their aim as it circled and dove, breathing fire in every direction. It would hover from time to time, but it was hard to get a clear shot even with a bow.

Suddenly the dragon dove deeper to bite at its foes, and Aryon pointed at the angle as she watched with him. "It's headed this way, let's get you up there." As soon as she nodded they watched the timing of the dragon's swooping circle, and once it neared Aryon hoisted her high enough to grip the dragon's neck ridge, climbing onto the back precariously.

Charging deep toward the ground, the dragon tried to dislodge her, roaring its defiance angrily. Her tail wrapped around the neck spike behind her, her hands focused on wielding her sword and hanging on to one of the large horns sprouting from its head. The beast pitched and rolled but it couldn't get rid of the thorn in its side, and with one quick lunge she struck a blow to the head, or at least she hoped. It was enough to stun the dragon enough for her to wrench hard on the horn she was gripping, steering him to the right and into Aryon's range. A very precise bolt of lightning struck one of the dragon's eyes, blinding it and sending it careening into the ground at long last.

On the ground, Aryon kept striking out with magic, taking out his blade once he was within range. The guards nearby closed in as well, trying to get in whatever hits they could while the dragon thrashed wildly. It was quickly plain that they couldn't close in with their swords, it was too dangerous when they were dodging flailing wings and sharp spikes. Laje-tal saw the problem, but she wasn't sure if the solution would work. It was worth a try. "Aryon, paralyze it!"

"You've got to be insane! That huge thing?" Still he tried with as much power he could muster to at least hold the dragon's head in the grip of his spell, though it was hard to do even that. Luckily it was enough, and Laje-tal managed to bloody the dragon enough to break its resistances, delivering the final blow through the eye socket. Her blade exited with a sickening crunch, dripping blood everywhere as she approached Aryon, out of breath.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

He ran up to her, assessing the damage to both her and the dragon. "You really are insane." A wide grin spread across his face despite the blood and gore they were covered in, the burning fires and heavy smoke falling into the background. "I always did like that about you."

Returning his grin with her own, she finally realized how filthy she had become. She tried to shake off what she could, the blood and bits of skin and flesh sticking to her. "Alright, maybe I overdid it a little." A large glob of congealed blood oozed to the ground, and she grunted with disgust. Just as everyone was crowding around the dragon, something strange happened to the corpse. It started to glow, flaking away the outer hide of the body, revealing the bones underneath. All of it shed away to nothing, a burning light surging towards her. Startled, she shielded her face, but the air wasn't hot at all, simply aglow with a mysterious light. The light surrounded her, rejuvenating her energy, curling around her hands as she watched it flow towards and out of her.

Everyone near her backed away, even Aryon, not sure what was happening. Aryon recovered more quickly, going to her side as soon as the light began to die down. "Are you alright? What happened?"

She was still taking in the strange feeling, the word from the wall in the barrow suddenly returning to her thoughts. It was like she understood the meaning of it completely without ever learning anything about it. "It all makes sense now. That word I saw on the wall, it's like something from the dragon taught me what it was."

One of the Nord guards approached her warily, awed but sounding certain about what he had seen. "You must be Dragonborn! You absorbed the soul of that dragon!"

Strangely it sounded right. Deep down she knew it, but she didn't want to. "Dragonborn?"

"If you're Dragonborn you can shout. You learned it, right? From the dragon? It's said the Dragonborn tears the souls right from them, learning their powers!"

Everything he said about it was something she could feel now, the word returning to her mind. It resonated in the same place she drew magic from, and without understanding what she was doing, she let it explode in a surge of force. "Fus!" Grass and smoke in front of her burst apart, stronger shrubs bearing back under the burst of air that charged out of her. Shocked by the outburst she drew back, staggering from the surprise. For the first time in her life she was truly afraid of what she had just done, what she was capable of doing. It had been a long time since she had felt real fear.

"You shouted! It's true, you're Dragonborn!"

Luckily Irileth could always be trusted to defuse the situation. "What a bunch of nonsense."

The guard wasn't swayed by her blank tone. "It's part of our traditions! You're not a Nord, you wouldn't understand it."

She was no less jaded by the sight, and she gestured out across the ground. "I've seen all kinds of stranger things than this. What I see now is a dead dragon, and a dead dragon means a safer Whiterun. They can be killed, and that's all we need to worry about now."

Seeing Laje-tal's distress, Aryon came to her while the others were distracted, gripping her shoulders firmly. "Are you alright?" She didn't respond and he could feel her shuddering, her eyes somewhat glazed over and breath coming in short bursts. In all their time together he had never seen her quite like this, and he found himself at a loss for what to do. Every time they met battle, she was the most confident, charging into the fray without fear. No, it wasn't the fight. It was this new power of hers, and she was afraid of it. He remembered the first time he had created magic, the flames bursting from him and frightening him beyond reason. Still, magic could be controlled, and so could this. Taking her into a tight embrace despite her protests, ignoring the filth and blood still dripping from her robes, he just kept her there, willing the tremors to go away. "No, I'm not going to be afraid of this. You have mastered every kind of magic I've ever had to teach you, this is just one more thing to master. I know you can control it once you learn how."

His calm, resolute tone broke her from her stupor, bringing her back into the calm focus she remembered during all of their lessons. Taking a deep breath, she channeled her fear out, letting it become only energy to keep her going. "Right. It's just another spell."

"A spell with words attached to it. Remember what happened when you were learning the master destruction spells?"

Oh she remembered alright. That had been a disaster. "Your tower never did look quite the same after that, no matter how I tried to regrow it."

He grimaced at the memory. "Maybe not, but we fixed most of it. That, and you learned those spells. I never thought you would master them so quickly, but maybe it all makes sense now. If you are Dragonborn, maybe that's why you're so inclined towards magic."

"Maybe." Finally she laughed, the mood lightening. "Hortator, Nerevarine and Dragonborn? Prophecy seems to follow me around like my own tail."

"And you have a fine tail." Dodging her playful swat he saw she was finally back, the confident light back in her eyes. "You do! I think we owe the Jarl a report, though, at least. It isn't like we'll have to report to the likes of Gothren."

She shuddered when she heard that name. "Yes, now let's never mention his name again. I've heard enough of it for two lifetimes." With only a hint of trepidation they both headed towards the city, not sure what to do next.

Nearby Irileth had had about enough of letting her growing questions go unanswered so she approached them, pointing at Aryon sharply. "I knew there was something odd about you two. I remember you now, Telvanni mage! You were there, during the Oblivion crisis! It may have been two hundred years ago but I remember you!" She turned her eyes now to Laje-tal, pointing at her too. "I don't know why I remember you, though. It was before your time."

Laje-tal sighed. It had to happen sooner or later, they were bound to find someone they knew. "You aren't mistaken, I was there. Now that I think of it, I remember you too. You were evacuating Sadrith Mora after one of the rocks from the mountain crashed into Tel Naga. We got most of them out to whatever boats we could, and the rest were helped by the Mages Guild. Did that friend of yours make it?"

"Nirasa? No." Letting out a harsh huff, she shook her head in bemusement. "That must mean you're the mysterious Arch-Magister everyone was going on about before then. It had been rumored for some time that an Argonian was in the upper ranks, but I couldn't believe it myself. The Telvanni had always enslaved your kind, considering them little more than animals. It simply didn't make much sense." Now her look grew a bit more curious. "You don't look to be that old either. If I remember right, Argonians can't live that long."

"No." Showing the Dunmer her ring, she saw the woman's eyes narrow. "Being relieved of corprus disease during the trials had the interesting side effect of making us immortal. Now you see why we had to keep things quiet. We were so close, too." She frowned at the memories suddenly returning. "Although I didn't know how to be an Argonian, having grown up around Dunmer and Imperials, I still saw how they suffered. It's true they kept my people as slaves, but near the end, we had just begun to make slavery unfashionable. I couldn't have just risen in the house and declared it illegal, they would have had my head in an instant. We spread rumors that the other councilors couldn't afford to keep paid workers, that slaves were unreliable and couldn't be trusted. After sneaking in and freeing as many as I could, it became a solid argument. Now, though..." She threw her hands up helplessly.

"Now you're here."

"Now I'm here." She found herself grinning in spite of it all, laughing at how ridiculous it was. "I didn't think you would take this so well."

Irileth shrugged casually. "As I said, I've seen some strange things in my travels. It doesn't matter, though." Giving the Argonian a hard but meaningful stare, she spoke her mind plainly. "Whoever you are, whoever you were, you are here and you can kill these dragons. Don't think too hard on the future, you will be there soon enough."

"Vivec was fond of that saying."

Aryon hummed thoughtfully, remembering the dead poet himself. "Great ideas, not so great at trying to be a god."

Irileth stopped them with a small gesture of her hand. "We're close to the city. I may not care what you talk about, but I've learned the Nords don't like us remembering things that they don't. I suppose our long lives bother them. You're to come report to the Jarl with us, and I expect you to tell the truth, not your idea of it."

So it was that they came to Dragonsreach, though on the way they and everyone else within a several mile radius heard a particularly loud shout come from the great mountain at the throat of the world. The Jarl had gone on about the Greybeards and who they were, but it offered little interest to his visitors. What had taken their attention, though, was that for their great deeds for his hold, he offered them permission to buy property in his hold if they so desired. That offer had come as a bit of a shock, even if they didn't intend to make use of it. Later, as they left Whiterun for the wilds and hopefully some peace and quiet, Aryon brought up the incident, ever curious.

"Perhaps all of this business could come of use to us," he mused, walking beside her as they headed in a southern direction. "It sounded like that Dragonborn was something of a Nord hero. If you really are that, then the Nords would have even less of a reason to come after us."

Laje-tal turned to walk backwards for a moment, her horned brows furrowed sharply. "But more reason for the Thalmor to hunt me down. Not only that, but the Imperials would also see me as a threat if I so much as lift a finger to help the Nords. I don't want to get involved in this war of theirs, but they wouldn't know that, and the Dragonborn would be a significant piece in tipping the balance one way or the other. If anything my situation is more precarious than before. Then, if I revealed the rest of what I am, I can't imagine how many power struggles I would get involved in."

"We," he corrected gently. "It would be both our troubles."

"All the more reason to consider this more carefully before it goes too far."

"There's no helping it now. We already revealed ourselves before all of this came about, and then there was Irileth. I doubt she would say much to anyone else, but the others..." Crossing his arms as he thought about their conundrum he hummed with discontent. "Well, too late now. Maybe you should go ahead with this Dragonborn prophecy, see where it leads. If nothing else, it will make them forget that you are Nerevar incarnate."

She huffed a sharp laugh at that. "Yes, that they would." Looking down and considering Nerevar's ring as she often did, she found herself thinking aloud. "I think I know now what happened. His soul crossed the Hist, and came into its being. Argonian souls do not die, they are taken into the Hist and remade again and again. Somehow he crossed into the Hist and became myself. Do you suppose that is why I feel so much more a Dunmer?"

"You are not a Dunmer," he reminded her firmly. "You are Laje-tal, not Lenassa Tenavvi."

That name she had used on official documents from House Telvanni reminded her of that ingenious scheme and she found herself smirking at the memory. Still, he was right. "No, I'm not Lenassa. I'm not Nerevar, either, or at least not consciously. I'm not quite sure what I am sometimes."

This had been something that had been going on for years, but for once he suggested something he hadn't really brought up before. Maybe he had been a bit selfish with their attachment, but now he knew what needed to be done. "You should spend more time with other Argonians."

That made her stop in her tracks. "What? I can't, they couldn't possibly comprehend me any more than I could comprehend them."

"You wouldn't have to be like them, just understand your own history." Unconsciously he had slipped back into the role of her teacher, but as her husband he had to be more thorough. "When I first understood that you were going to last in House Telvanni, I studied as much as I could about the Argonian culture so I might understand you. For such a long time Dunmer had given no thought to what we called the beast folk, fighting them when necessary and enslaving them whenever we could. You and I have done as much in our time here in Skyrim to study these Nords, so we might live next to them without doing something that might provoke them. I've had to become a different person as much as you have, and I know that can be a hard thing to do, but being ignorant of what you are isn't the same as not knowing who you are."

Despite herself the frustration that had been building in her dissipated, leaving behind his simple logic. Somehow he always had that effect on her. "Sometimes I wonder how you know everything about me."

"It's more that I accepted that I can't know everything." His smile cut through her gloom, giving both of them some much needed encouragement. "There will always be places you go that I can't follow, just as there are places that I go where you can't. We are very similar, but we are also very different. I'm satisfied with leaving it that way."

It had been what she needed to hear. Maybe she wasn't any sort of Argonian or Dunmer, but everyone was different in their own way. Even those raised in their own cultures sometimes deviated from it, and many others left to explore the greater world, rounding out their lives with experiences. Had she been in Black Marsh right now she would have been considered a wise elder, but even now she sometimes felt like a foolish child. Ever grateful for Aryon's blunt insights, she leaned up just enough to give him a brief kiss. "I will be satisfied with it too."

* * *

Returning to Markarth had been a joint decision, made mostly because they wanted to see the Dwemer museum again. Aryon's want for her to learn more about other Argonians had been temporarily pacified when she found all four volumes of _The Argonian Account_, and despite her initial disinterest, she had found the story entertaining enough to share with him. He had found it equally amusing, and with that they agreed that she wouldn't be doing her research alone. Today, Laje-tal had gone to visit Calcelmo, a mutual friend they had known some time before the Forsworn attack. They had already been here a couple days, enjoying the respite. Aryon wandered on his own around the city, discreetly looking up old friends and catching up on news. It was in the local tavern that he now found himself, sharing a few words with the old Skald.

It was interesting to hear the old man's account of his experiences as a Skald, and it was also good to see that he was still alive, though much older. The Nord was understandably a little put off by how elves all but refused to age, but they moved back into their talks about Nords and history like they had before, keeping the conversations simple. One thing they had always talked about at length was Shor, known as Lorkhan by the elves. Each of their races had differing stories of the god, but it all came down to what interested both him and Laje-tal; the connection between the heart of that god and what the Dwemer had been trying to accomplish.

Soon enough the Skald went back to work as the evening crowd started to trickle in, singing songs and telling tales to anyone who seemed interested. Aryon just sat by the fire and listened idly, waiting for Laje-tal to get done talking to Calcelmo. That was likely to take hours, so he got comfortable. An hour or so passed by and finally the Argonian came into the bar, coming to his side casually. He looked up, greeting her with a small huff. "I'd have thought it would be half past midnight before you got here. You must have not had much more to say on those books of yours."

She only shrugged. "Books can only say so much before they run out of words. As much as we look into them, neither of us have been able to understand what all of those pages were trying to say. I'm starting to think we're never going to get any farther than the first ten pages."

Somehow the way she said it made him wary. Then he remembered that all of her books, _The Egg of Time, Hanging Gardens, Divine Metaphysics_ and _Secrets of Dwemer Animunculi_ all had much less than ten pages. She and Calcelmo had rarely talked about much else. Maybe they had finally found something else to discuss. "No matter, you always do what you seek to do, I'm sure it will come to you eventually. Did you want something to drink here?"

"Yes, I could use one after all of that thirsty work." As soon as the barmaid came by, she flagged the woman down to give her order. "A mead, please."

Now Aryon was suspicious in earnest. This couldn't be Laje-tal, she detested mead with a fervent passion. But who was it? While the Argonian was distracted by ordering her drink and listening to one of the Skald's tales, he inspected her closely. She was very similar in appearance, almost eerily so, but as her neck turned he saw the part where scarring from the corprus disease should have been. Try as she might, something like that was hard to mimic, and his wife had been very self-conscious about that scarring, always pulling her hood around her neck to hide it. She wouldn't have let it slip like this. No, the color was all wrong too. Deciding to play along and see where exactly this was going, he worded his question very carefully. "I'm sure it was good to catch up with Calcelmo, but tomorrow we should be able to study the ruins at Reachwind Eyrie in earnest. I'm looking forward to researching more into those attunement spheres." It was a lie, of course. They had planned to spend the next three days in Markarth, and attunement spheres had no use in Reachwind Eyrie.

"A fine mystery, those! It has been good to see Markarth again but I'll be glad to be back out on the field."

That had also been confirmation, but he had known it already. He just wanted to see how far this Argonian would take her little ruse. Most likely she was an assassin, most imposters were for that purpose. Granted, she was a good imposter. She dressed the same, looked nearly the same, and had a similar deportment, but she couldn't replicate the small things that came from knowing someone for a very long time. Her mead had arrived, and he lingered long enough for her to drink it. Yes, let her have her last drink. If she was an assassin, her last it would be indeed.

Finally she rose, looking at him expectantly. "You know, I heard they had a statue to Talos here in town. I'd like to go see it while we're here. Want to come along?"

Talos, huh? She had always called the man Tiber Septim, out of habit after hearing Barenziah call him so all the time. Not only that but she had never shown any interest in the shrine, even in all the time they had lived here. So this was to be the place of betrayal, then? Yes, it was a good plan, seeing that the shrine was rarely visited. He would get her before it went that far. "Certainly, I've been meaning to see it since the Forsworn raid." She made no comment on that, and he smirked to himself at how poor this assassin was at her job. Night had barely begun to set in as they walked to the main square outside, but once they had enough clear space, Aryon stopped in his tracks.

The mystery Argonian heard him stop and turned around with a questioning look. "What's wrong?"

He didn't bother to hide the roll of his eyes. "You are a miserable assassin if you think I would fall for this for long."

To his amusement she had the gall to play dumb. "An assassin? You are too paranoid, you really think an assassin would be looking for you here?"

Just for fun he humored his need to catch her red handed. "Alright then, which of Kagrenac's tools did you use to destroy the heart of Lorkhan?"

He had to admit, she did at least think on her feet. "Tools? Why, the hammer, of course."

"Wrong answer." Pulling his blade they broke into a skirmish, but this Argonian wasn't even half the Argonian his wife was. It wasn't long before he beheaded the stranger and as he glared down at her corpse, he let out a short laugh. "The hammer indeed." By then guards had come to see what was happening, and it was all explained easily enough by a note on the corpse. The Dark Brotherhood. Now he looked at the corpse with a deeper frown, an old anger stirring up in his heart. They were back.

A good few minutes passed as everyone on the scene discussed what had gone on, and before long the real Laje-tal came running to the scene, taking in the strange Argonian with an equal amount of distaste and a bit of fear for her love's safety. He could easily take care of a lowly assassin but it was still a scare. "What is all of this?"

Taking her aside, Aryon talked to her quietly. "An assassin that looked like you attacked me. I know I'm being paranoid, but humor me. Which books did you talk with Calcelmo about? Which of Kagrenac's tools did you use to destroy the heart of Lorkhan?"

As expected she understood his questioning. She would have done the same in this circumstance. "We discussed _The Egg of Time_ again, with a quick look at _Divine Metaphysics_. We didn't get to the others today. The tools I used were Keening and Sunder."

Heaving a sigh of relief he pulled her to him, both of them leaning into the embrace with more than a little anxiety. With a hard look Aryon pulled the note out between them, showing it to her, his words coming softly with trepidation. "They're back."

Her hands shook slightly as she took the note, reading it with disbelief. She glanced back at him, her pupils mere slits as she felt anger surge through her like her own magic. "Not for long. I will kill all of them for this disgrace. The others from the Dark Brotherhood had the courtesy to fight me or you directly, not this insulting deceit." Sparing a look back at the corpse, she grunted in further disapproval. "Was that supposed to be me? They didn't even get the neck scales right. Those are the most important ones."

"I know. Argonians bare their necks in greeting, not their horns. They must have thought I wouldn't notice."

"They can't even get the simplest thing correct."

Laughing at her nitpicking the details of an assassin of all things, he just shook his head at how glad he was to know it was her in front of him. "It was actually something she said that made me wonder at first. I was in the inn, and you know how terrible the lighting is in there." She nodded agreement to that, and he continued. "Said something about not even getting past the first ten pages of the books! Hah! You've never talked about anything but those odd Dwarven books with Calcelmo, and you know what else? She ordered a mead!"

Laje-tal grimaced pointedly. "Vile!" Things had calmed down now, the guards taking away the body and someone was even already cleaning up the blood. The initial shock of it all had gone away, but she still had a worried look on her face. "I'm just glad you're alright. We had better stay together for now, but if we get separated again, let's think of something to identify each other just in case."

"You just show me your ring, that is enough for any imposter. Ask me about the twentieth of Heartfire."

That had been the day she had lit all of those copies of _The Lusty Argonian Maid_ in his tower, something only they would recall. She found herself grinning at the memory. "Ah yes, that. That was a very fine day indeed."

Shooting her a playful look, he put enough distance between them before telling her a small but peculiar nugget of information he had learned while in town. "Have you read volume two yet? I've heard it's quite a read." It was a good thing he had learned how to run.


	4. Chapter 4

Laje-tal knew quite well about orphanages. She had been in one for a short while before being "adopted" by a family. That stint as a slave for those Dunmer hadn't lasted long. No, she had been all but born with magic in her blood, and they had thought her too young and small to require the magic restraining bracers her older kin had on. By the time her horns had sprouted she had killed her captors, and it led to her quickly being shipped off to that Imperial family. She hadn't had cause to think that she would ever be in such a place again, but here they were. The lovely city of Riften.

It hadn't been hard to find out about the Dark Brotherhood. A child in Windhelm was looking for the group, and though they had been a little puzzled that someone so young was looking to have someone killed, they followed up on it. Aryon agreed to pose as a Dark Brotherhood agent, his red, glowing eyes perfectly menacing when she covered him in enough dark clothes and a masked hood to pull off the evil organization look. He went in and handled it with usual Dunmer charm, being perfectly condescending and distrustful through the whole ordeal. The child was naturally intimidated by his looks and attitude, and he had gotten the information they needed. Riften was their next visit, and their target an old woman. It didn't sound pleasant, but if they wanted to attract the attention of the Dark Brotherhood, the best way to do so was to kill one of their targets first.

Now next to her in the orphanage, Aryon looked at his wife uncertainly, knowing how she felt about being in a place like this. Although she rarely spoke about her life before Vvardenfell, she had briefly mentioned that orphanages made her uneasy. It hadn't taken him long to piece together the reasons. She met his look, a small frown on her face. "I don't like this."

He only shook his head. "Not much else we can do."

Quickly enough though their target, Grelod the Kind, proved to be anything but. She was the very definition of everything wrong with an orphanage, and after talking to her for only minutes, Laje-tal found herself already wanting to wring her neck. Instead she pulled Aryon aside, whispering to him while everyone was distracted. "Might I have the honor?"

"I was about to suggest the same thing. I'll distract them."

She faked earnestly looking around the place as Aryon started up a conversation with the only other adult, a woman named Constance. That one had been the actual kind one, really wanting to take care of the children, and with Grelod out of the way she would be in charge. As soon as he started talking about magic, Laje-tal knew she was in the clear. He could talk about that until he was even grayer in the face, and as expected Grelod retired to her room, not wanting to hear about such things. The children had been fascinated, and before long he had the whole room distracted. She slipped quietly into the shadows, little more than dark scales against dark wood, edging to the door.

By some stroke of luck the old woman was already laying down. When the Argonian slipped in, she had woken up, but she was quickly silenced by a strong paralyzing spell. Laje-tal only gave her a grim look. "No, not today. You're just like they were." Pulling around just enough to not get marked by the blood, she let a small iron dagger do the rest of the talking. Ever thorough, she left a note making it look like it was indeed a Dark Brotherhood mark. As quietly as she came in she left, heading out the side door and into the outer fenced area outside. Once a few minutes had passed she came back in loudly enough to attract the attention of the others, smiling despite what she had just done. "You know, there really are a good few flowers back there. I don't know why the children are cooped up inside on a day like this."

At her desk Constance sighed wistfully, probably thinking much the same herself. "It really is too bad, but Grelod won't allow it."

"A real shame. Why not ask her if she might allow it just this once? It's no good to keep the sun from one's scales."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt to ask her..."

"Well no matter, I'm sure you'll see to their needs as well as you can." Catching Aryon's eye, quietly confirming much with that simple look, they came to an agreement. "I suppose we had better get going, since we couldn't quite get what we came for."

"I do wish I could have helped you." She sighed again, looking at the children as they went back to entertaining themselves. "I want all of them to find good homes, but I just don't know. I'm sure you'll make great parents for some child someday, let's just hope it's someday soon."

Laje-tal froze at that. "Yes, thank you," she said distantly, leaving the place as quickly as she could without seeming suspicious. Aryon followed right after her, talking only once they were out of range of the building.

"That went better than I had hoped." Seeing her cold stare, looking at everything but seeing nothing, he admitted to himself that he had felt the same in that place. "It's better this way."

She nodded absently, but her mind was elsewhere. About a hundred years after arriving in Skyrim, their relationship had produced something they had never thought possible. Results. A child resulting from a Dunmer and an Argonian had been entirely unheard of in the past, and only documented in hypothetical curiosity. It hadn't ended well. Halfway through the child was born dead. They had reasoned that it was better off being as it was, with both of them immortal, and they wouldn't have to watch future generations age and die before they would, but sometimes they were still reminded of it. "I know. It's better this way." Letting the moment drop, knowing they had both agreed long ago not to dwell in it any longer than necessary, she started to head back out of the city.

Everyone on the street heard the ear-shattering scream come from inside the orphanage. Wincing, his sensitive ears catching it particularly hard, Aryon followed after her quickly. "Let's get out of here."

As the day waxed forward they headed north out of town, going as far as Shor's Stone. The place didn't have an inn, but they could camp readily enough on the outskirts without too much trouble. After clearing out the local mine of its spiders, the citizens couldn't have cared less that there were strangers setting up for the night. They had even gotten a fair amount of coin for their trouble, enough to keep them set with supplies for a good while. Once they pitched a small camp at the top of a hill, they sat watching as the sun started to set, looking out over the village.

"Well, now what?" Aryon asked.

"Now we wait. You don't find the Dark Brotherhood, it finds you." On Vvardenfell she had learned just as much, having been targeted by the organization for some time before she brought the fight to them all the way in Mournhold. "Either they will attack us as we sleep or they will capture one of us. Probably the latter, considering they have been hurting for new recruits."

"Do you suppose they will take us both?"

"Maybe. If we get separated, let's meet in Whiterun. It's central and safe, and the Jarl knows us."

"Agreed." They ate from their rations, sharing a drink back and forth, trying not to think about what was going to happen next. It would happen one way or the other, and they were ready. "This is a very quiet little place. I suppose Shor's Stone refers to the stone of Lorkhan, since Shor is the Nordic Lorkhan."

"Probably. The heart of Lorkhan was once called the stone of red tower, or Red Mountain. The stories differ, but everyone has a story of Lorkhan. It's not too hard to imagine that they are the same thing. Shor's Stone, Shor's bones, I don't know." Her brow furrowed again as it often did whenever she thought on the puzzle of Lorkhan. She always got that same look, and Aryon knew it well.

"Hm, Shor's bones, Lorkhan's bones. It's something like the Earth Bones, maybe."

"Maybe, Lorkhan was supposedly behind the creation of Mundus. That, and maybe the shattering of Lorkhan led to those different parts being separated. It could well be that Shor's bones are here after all."

"That's an interesting thought. I wonder if the Dwemer considered that."

"If they had, it probably would have made things worse. They might have been able to obtain even more power. Then again, they disappeared at the same time as the Battle of Red Mountain, so maybe they never had the chance." Taking out a sheaf of notes from her pack to jot something down, she leaned back against the tree they were sitting near. "Baladas had a theory that the Dwemer were trying to invert the laws created by the Earth Bones, where the deaths of the sacred created the profane. He suspected they were trying to create the sacred from the deaths of the profane."

"Not implausible, they did have long-range telepathic powers, they could have communicated in mass on that day."

"If that's true then it didn't work, since Lorkhan's heart was largely unchanged. Maybe they had all been the conduit for whatever they were going to use to tap into the power. Kagrenac's tools, after all, were able to block that conduit. I still don't know if I actually destroyed it or if it was simply banished from this world, but there was definitely a severing of a connection that I didn't understand."

"We might never know." Slowly the stars came out, and they sat quietly for a while, watching the sky spin slowly on its axis. "Have you been trying that dragon power of yours more?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, it took her a second to respond. "Once in a while. It isn't as frightening as it was before, now that I understand it better."

"Magic is always frightening when you first learn it." He grinned, remembering how he learned spells as a boy. "Fire and lightning were always a problem with my parents. I'm sure I could have had a thousand bounties by the time I came of age if they hadn't been around to teach me the correct ways to restrain it."

"What were your parents like?"

It was odd how that question had never come up. Neither of them had talked much about life before House Telvanni, but he hardly minded telling her now. "Our whole family was of the Telvanni. It was clear from early on that I was a mage, so I learned under both them and other tutors in the family. They were good enough to me, made sure I didn't burn down the village, that sort of thing."

"I don't remember mine." Next to her, Aryon perked up, though he tried not to let it show. "All I know is they fought and died in the Arnesian war. That, and the day I was born my egg caught fire. Nobody knew what to do, it had come out of nowhere. All I was doing was trying to hatch, and I had done it casting magic."

The idea instantly came to him as absurd, and he found himself laughing at it. "You hatched from burning your own eggshell? That is the true birth of a mage!"

She chuckled a little at that. "That's why I don't remember ever being frightened of my magic. It was always there. It didn't matter, though. My parents were already dead by then."

"How could your mother have died before you were born?"

"Argonians aren't born the same day they are eggs. The soft skins have a long term of nine months, give or take, but Argonians are only five. We spend the last four as an egg by the hearth, hardening every day until ready to hatch. When the youngling hatches, its parents or caregivers bring out hist sap so it might decide how many times to lick it."

He blinked in amazement, never having had this interesting insight into the young life of Argonians before. "So you do know a bit of something, then. What does the sap do?"

Not quite sure how to explain it she frowned, trying to gesture it out. "It makes us. I don't know how to say it." She muttered a strange series of words and sounds. "That is what the former slaves I knew called it. The more we lick it, the more we become part of the Hist. You have seen others, right? Some that could almost look like humans?" He nodded and she went on. "They did not lick the sap so much, maybe once or twice. I licked it many times, but not as many as those that live nearest the Hist."

"How odd." Still he smiled, feeling more intrigued than appalled, as much of the rest of the Dunmer surely would have been. "Fascinating. What else did those former slaves have to say?"

"Not much else. They shared a few stories from the homeland, a few small things. Although they worked for me for a fair wage and good housing, they still did not trust me much. I was still a Telvanni, and it was hard for anyone to trust anyone else in that place."

"That it was. I can't imagine how it must have been for a former slave to work for a Telvanni. I can't even imagine how it is to be a slave."

"It's better that you can't."

That had definitely been something she had never mentioned. She had been open enough about the Imperials she had lived with for a time, but he never knew that there had been anything before. It made sense now. Imperials wouldn't have known how to raise an Argonian, but Dunmer would have had enough slaves about to make sure the job got done properly. He knew better than to ask why she was being so open with him. She had always done so whenever they were on the brink of the unknown. Maybe something about that made them want to say the unsaid. Just in case. "Hm, well I really can't imagine how it is to be a former slave married to a Telvanni."

With a small smile she turned to him, ever grateful he could understand what she didn't say as much as what she did. "It's perfect."

* * *

Laje-tal was blindfolded, on her knees and on a hard wooden floor but she didn't panic. They had found her, and though she was bound and blinded, she always had an escape plan as a backup. Rope and cloth couldn't bind her, and surely the Dark Brotherhood knew that. If they didn't, they were even more foolish than she had thought. Soon enough the voice of the Dark Brotherhood agent greeted her, a woman, and indeed she had seen the little stunt the Argonian and her Dunmer companion had pulled. Understandably she was disappointed that someone had beaten them to the mark, but was at the same time impressed by the swift efficiency with which it had been done.

"Now, I'm going to give you a little task to perform," the woman, now introduced as Astrid, said calmly. "There are three prisoners here with you. One of them is wanted by the Dark Brotherhood, but which one? Kill one of them, but choose well. It could be any of them."

So that was how they were recruiting these days. She was finally untied, and looked to the back of the room behind her where indeed there were three others equally bound and hooded. On top of the bookcase in front of her, the blond agent looked down at her expectantly. This would have to be done very carefully. Laje-tal went about what the agent expected, interviewing each of the captives, sometimes intimidating them into answering. Finally she backed away, readying her bow. As she pretended to aim at the Khajiit, she couldn't help but ask. "Tell me, Astrid... how many arrows would it take to ruin a brotherhood?"

Pale brows drawn, Astrid moved on her perch uneasily. "What?"

In an instant she turned, letting the arrow loose with enough force to pierce the agent's heart and exit just enough to pin her to the wall. "Not what. One." With that she freed the other prisoners, offering them food, water, and a bit of coin so they could escape. Taking Astrid's bloody gloves from her corpse, she kept them as proof of the deed, leaving the rest there to rot however it would. They all agreed to make it to the nearest town together, though when they stepped out onto the misty moors, it wasn't quite clear where they were.

The Khajiit smelled the air, turning to their group and pointing southeast. "We are near Morthal, I think. It smells like Morthal. Moss, muck, deathbells and swamp fungus."

Laje-tal peered at the direction of the sun, not even sure what time it was, but in the distance she recognized a stone monolith she had been to before. "There, that stone. We are near Morthal. Let's go." Leading the mixed group all full of mixed feelings, she led the way. None of the others had weapons, save for their own hands, so she took it upon herself to get them out of there. It was because of her that they were captured, after all. They had readily accepted that her rough interrogation was purely to fool the Dark Brotherhood agent, and all was forgiven more or less.

Along the way they had little trouble, mostly fighting off mudcrabs and moor spirits. A rogue conjurer had attacked, but Laje-tal made quick and easy work of him. Finally they emerged from the eerie mists and into the small hold of Morthal, where they gladly parted from each other and went about their ways. Nearby a few guards saw the band of bedraggled strangers and approached her, figuring her to be the leader as she was the only one armed and dangerous. "Hold now, stranger! Who are all of these odd folk you're bringing in with you?"

Others had stopped to stare at the small but unusual event, but she paid them no attention, showing the stained gloves of the agent she had slain to the guard. "These people were captives of the Dark Brotherhood. The leader captured me and tried to make me kill one but I killed her instead. I don't suppose you might know where any others might be?"

Of course the guard was startled, but the proof was right in front of his eyes. Stammering, he managed to point in a generally southwest direction. "I... you... yes, I believe I heard that Commander Maro in Dragon Bridge has been hunting them down for some time. You should ask for him there." Still a bit shocked, he looked again at the gloves. "You really killed the leader?"

"She called herself as much but I want to be sure and kill them all." Trying not to scare the poor man she put away her weapon, relaxing her pose a little. "I'm thinking I might need to prepare a little. Is there an apothecary? A trader? Any mages?"

"Yes, yes, we have an apothecary right over there, and the general trader is on the other edge of the docks. As for mages there's just that wizard living here, Falion. He's up to some strange business, that one, but if you're needing the odd potion he's alright enough."

"Perfect. I'll go pay him a visit." Leaving the guard even more confused she walked along the dock to find the wizard's house, hoping he would have a fair stock of magicka potions and maybe a few spare ingredients. The alchemist would be a second option, but she preferred to interact with those who wouldn't give her peculiar looks when she listed off the items she needed.

As soon as she entered his home he shot her a rather aggrieved look. "Oh great. Another newcomer to Morthal. I suppose you came here to see what I was doing?" Without warning he went on a small rant about how others in Morthal viewed him, the many and varied things he supposedly did, and misconceptions in general. Finally he took a breath. "Any questions?"

Laje-tal only blinked, holding out her hand to introduce herself. He deserved it after all of that. "Laje-tal, House Telvanni."

"Telvanni?" He sighed a very exasperated sigh, taking her hand in greeting briefly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I'm sure you know how it is out there."

"As much as you do. I'm a conjurer myself at times, and I'm sure you know of the Telvanni. I'll admit I came to you before the alchemist because people like you and I often require... unusual items. I thought you might have some to sell."

"Yes, yes, of course. I do know of House Telvanni, just about any mage with any learning knows about who they were. Are. I don't know, haven't heard much about them first hand. So what will it be? Spell books, soul gems, reagents?"

"I have yet to find a spell book I haven't learned, but as for the rest yes. I've a long way to go to get back to Whiterun so whatever restorative potions you might have would be good. Maybe a few fortifications as well, and do you have any grand soul gems?"

"Just a few, but for you I'll be glad to sell them. Tell you what, you tell me a bit about House Telvanni and I'll give you a few potions? I've always been terribly curious about the sorts of things they did over there in Morrowind but the Dark Elves aren't the sort to talk. I'm from Hammerfell myself, not many are used to seeing a Redguard mage, but I suppose you know all about that too."

"Intimately." Taking a seat nearby she rested for a moment as he prepared some potions. He didn't seem to have what she needed on hand and was going to the trouble of making them for her. She would wait; as much as she wanted to return to Aryon as quickly as possible, going on a journey all the way back to Whiterun without supplies was entirely foolish. She had every intention to return in one piece. "I'm afraid I can only wait as long as it takes to make the potions. I need to return to my husband, but I'll tell you what little I can while we wait. I suppose the trick now is where to begin..."

There were of course things she couldn't reveal to anyone outside of the house but she told him what she could, discussing the role of the council and the members in it and how there were generally few if any politics involved in much of anything. She also touched on the subject of the other houses and how they had once competed for land and position in Morrowind and Vvardenfell, and by the time she had finished with how Telvanni structures were created from giant species of fungi, the potions were complete. Falion handed them to her, clearly entertained by every aspect of it. "Amazing, simply amazing! I suppose you must be going now but I would love it if I could hear more of it in the future?"

Simply laughing at his enthusiasm she accepted the potions, storing them away in the pack. Taking out a bit of coin for the soul gems and a few odds and ends. Stowing those away as well she found a small book she had almost forgotten about. "Hm, _The Affairs of Wizards_? Well it's hardly a novel, for sure, but take it. It might be a small interest to you." He tried to offer her something for it but she refused. "I barely remember the thing, just have it. I'll be sure to look you up again but I must be going. I need to make haste to Whiterun." Without any further distractions she left Morthal, following the road east out of town. The moors were a quiet, depressing place and she would be glad to be rid of them, but she did entertain the idea of bringing Aryon here. He would definitely find the place delightfully odd.

* * *

At Dragonsreach, Aryon was talking with Farengar again, trying not to count days. It had been a few since Laje-tal had disappeared, but he wasn't worried just yet. If she had been taken far from Whiterun it would take her some time to get here anyway, and that was after she had taken care of the Dark Brotherhood situation. He just wished the Dark Brotherhood had taken them both, Whiterun was a good city but it was terribly dull.

"And see, this variable here represents the position of yourself to the plane of Oblivion you are trying to summon from. If it's too erratic you won't be able to focus on the stronger daedra, or you might get one that is too strong and they will escape and take you unprepared." Aryon jotted a few notes onto a formula, the scrawled mess taking up the whole page. "The greatest danger comes from unbound Dremora. They have no alliance to this world and therefore are bound by none of the rules of summoning except for being allowed into this world. Obviously you need to take care of this variable."

Farengar nodded, taking it all in with complete clarity. "Yes, I see it now. Although I'm not the conjuring type it is good to understand the theories and dangers behind it nonetheless. Now what about this other formula over here?"

"I haven't tested that one just yet but we have come up with a theory that there is a correlation between summoning creatures in different types of areas, affecting the possible difficulty in doing so. Here in Skyrim I've found it's nearly impossible to summon Golden Saints, but there should really be no reason for that seeing as I was able to do it with ease in Morrowind. Other such daedra like clannfears and winged twilights are equally hard to bring here, but atronachs and elemental daedra aren't any harder than they were in other areas. I'm trying to see if there is a relationship between the types of geology or environment and the sorts of daedra that can be called. So far I've reckoned this much."

"A very interesting theory indeed." He looked over the formula, much of it going over his head. "Can't say I understand it yet, but it's an interesting thought. What of that Argonian that was with you before? Has she had anything to say on this theory? If I remember right she's a mage too."

"Yes, she and I came up with this theory together. I'm afraid my wife is having more fun than I am right now. By now she's probably carved through half the Dark Brotherhood, but we agreed to meet up here, so here I'll stay for now. Once she comes back I'll be sure to have her explain her own contributions to this theory."

"Your wife, is she? To each their own." He shrugged dismissively. "Oh but I would love to study her! Powers of the Dragonborn! And if we could get a real live dragon captive here in Dragonsreach! The things I could test on it!"

Aryon shook his head, understanding the Nord's zeal but knowing neither of those things were bound to happen. Definitely, getting a dragon in Dragonsreach was the more plausible of those things. For a while longer they discussed the destruction magics and the finer points of enchanting, easily getting absorbed in their work. Neither of them noticed the Argonian approaching them from behind until she sighed heavily, making them both jump and turn around with a bit of a jolt.

"I figured you would be here."

Aryon, wary of another assassin attack, kept his guard up as he faced her. "Show me."

"Ah, right." Her ring was plainly in the open but she knew that was hardly enough. Spying a carrot on a nearby plate she took it, putting the ring on it as they all watched it wither to a crisp instantly. Once her ring was returned to her finger she posed her own test. "You next."

"Twentieth of Heartfire." Both of them confirmed he finally relaxed, glad to see her back in one piece, though he hadn't expected any less. "I'm guessing you got at least one of them."

She dipped her head, horns bobbing jerkily. "I did at least get their leader. She was alone, a big mistake. I learned that the Imperials in Dragon Bridge are looking for the rest." Grinning, she pointed at him. "I figured you might want to tag along."

"Of course! I did wonder if you saved any for me, this place is beyond dull. No offense, Farengar."

The Nord wasn't bothered, though, still awed by the strange properties of the ring that he had just witnessed. He approached the Argonian, unfazed by her puzzled glance. "Amazing! I simply must see that again! How does it work? What exactly did you do?"

She snatched back her hand before he could touch her ring, backing away slightly. "I wouldn't try it on if I were you. It kills anyone but me in an instant."

"What a fine notion! It would be perfect for that enchanted ring you don't want anyone else to have! How did you enchant it that way?"

"I... well, it wasn't me..."

He grew even more animated, his loud voice easily carrying through the hold. "Ah! A daedra, then? No, a Daedric Lord? Dwemer? Ah, the Dwemer! No, no, that would have been too long ago. Necromancers, maybe? No, definitely Daedric make I'm sure!"

Luckily his raving had attracted the attention of Irileth nearby at the central hearth, and she charged in with an exceptionally frustrated frown. "Farengar! The Jarl and I have both told you not to pester travelers with questions they don't want to answer! Come on, they look exhausted. Any questions you have can well wait until they are ready to tell you!"

Farengar retreated from her ire readily enough, going back behind his desk. "Alright, I know, I know. I get carried away and I don't deserve the lenience you all shower on me, I know it all already." Picking up a nearby book to read he seemed to forget them, going back to his business.

"Honestly..." Guiding the other two back into the main hall she gestured out to the main door. "You had better leave here for now, Farengar isn't likely to really forget you for long."

"Thanks Irileth," Laje-tal said with more than a hint of relief. "With the assassins attacking, one disguised as me, we've had to be particularly careful and my ring is the surest way to know it's really me. I like talking with other mages just as much as any, but as you said I'm exhausted. I ran full pace to return here after taking care of that Dark Brotherhood leader."

"The Dark Brotherhood? My, but you've become popular, haven't you? You took out their leader, too? Good, another thorn in our sides gone. I'm supposing you'll clean up the rest as well?"

"We both will. We killed them before in Mournhold and we'll kill them again now."

"So that was you too." She merely shrugged. "Go to it, then. You'll save the rest of us the headache of defending the Jarl against them. I'll keep Farengar perfectly well contained."

"I'll satisfy his curiosity someday but this isn't that day. We'll let you know if we find anything more on those dragons, too."

Aryon handed the housecarl a note full of scrawlings. "Please also see if you can get any of these things shipped here into town. I know some may seem a bit odd but I can't find them anywhere. If anyone can find them, I'm sure you can."

She looked over the note, her brows raising in interest at a few of the entries. "I'll see what I can do. Find more of those dragons, and I will at least point you in the right direction."

"We shall send you their heads until Dragonsreach is filled with them. Until then."

Laje-tal turned to leave with him. "Until then, Sera."

Only once they were well away from the keep did Aryon smirk at her, giving her a rather odd look. "Sera?"

The Argonian only shrugged. "What can I say? I like her."

* * *

Stalking prey was always a test of patience, but they had waited nonetheless. The remnants of the Dark Brotherhood in Skyrim were all in one place, in the outskirts of Falkreath behind an otherwise impenetrable black door. Commander Maro and his men had lately obtained the password to get inside, though they hadn't mustered up enough volunteers to help clear the place out. Neither of them minded. In Mournhold there had been dozens of Dark Brotherhood members, and the small number promised behind the door now sounded too good to be true.

They had waited patiently until the height of day, knowing the agents preferred to work at night when their prey was asleep. That concept was just as well turned back on them. Now they approached the black door, giving the password to it and slipping in silently. Laje-tal held up two fingers, hearing two members nearby. Trading hand signals they split up, taking to different marks. The first down was a Nord, caught unaware while eating. Aryon slipped further away into the back of the shadows and she crept to a closer one, frowning when she saw what it was. Another Argonian.

He was probably a Shadowscale, though that old practice was nowadays kept within the marsh. Still, he was one of a select few, an elite among the elite, trained from the day he was hatched to be the perfect killer. She could respect that. Creeping closer, her steps bare and light, she held her breath. Being so at ease in his home would be the death of him, complacency his one mistake. Wrenching his head back suddenly, she pulled her dagger across his neck. "Nocturnal take you." Sounds suddenly erupted from the upper floor, lightning flaring and exploding loudly. "Waxhuthi," she swore, forgetting herself in the chaos. Forgoing the plan to take them out with stealth, she charged up the back, finding Aryon trading blows with a Redguard.

Knowing he could take care of himself she ran further in, encountering a woman mage trying to join her fellow agent in what appeared to be the dining room. The other mage tried keeping her distance, using the big table between them, but Laje-tal hopped onto the mess, meeting the other in the middle as they sliced at each other with their daggers atop the table. Plates and food flew everywhere, and in an attempt to disorient the other mage, she let loose with her voice. "Fus!" The force of her Dragonborn power made the woman lurch against it, dropping low long enough for the Argonian to finish her off.

Aryon finished off the Redguard almost immediately after, jumping down to her level and keeping an eye out from behind. "I am ever glad we're on the same side, love."

She grinned at him triumphantly, turning back as the final agent came running into the room. This one was an older mage, definitely one with many years of experience. He looked frail enough, but they both knew what a truly knowledgeable mage could do in time. Facing him together they split again, dodging his stronger spells and enduring weaker ones to come closer. Aryon had him on the retreat, blade coming ever closer to slicing him open. Laje-tal saw her chance, shouting once more. "Fus!" As wise as the other mage may have been, he hadn't expected dragon powers. It brought him to his knees, buying just enough tome for Aryon to finish him off as well.

Shaking the blood off his blade Aryon surveyed the room, listening for any other sounds. "Five, right?"

"Right, Maro said five. They had a Shadowscale."

He frowned at that. "They did? No wonder they did so much with so little." No other sounds could be heard in the sanctuary, but Laje-tal suddenly perked up, seeming to hear something. "What is it?"

"I hear a chanting. I'm not sure what it's saying." Aryon insisted he couldn't hear anything at all, and his ears were far sharper, but she couldn't quell the odd feeling and followed the noise. Down on the lower level, a circular wall seemed to call to her, and she remembered feeling the same way at Bleak Falls Barrow. It was a wall of words. "This is just like the wall at the barrow, but the words are different. It feels the same way, but... different somehow." One word called out to her in particular, seeming to glow and resonate from the stone. As soon as she approached it the word was known, became a part of her. She couldn't quite understand its meaning, but she knew it.

Aryon looked at the text but all he saw was scratches he didn't recognize. "Dragon language?"

"Yes." She knew, but she didn't. It was all so strange. "Krii. It says krii. I know it."

"Another spell, then. Maybe you need to kill another dragon to understand it, like you did before."

"I don't know, but I have a feeling there will be enough dragons popping up again to find out."

* * *

On the shores of northern Skyrim, out in the midst of the frozen sea, Aryon and Laje-tal both looked out over the wreck of _The Pride of Tel Vos_, the former Telvanni ship that had sailed out during the chaos of the Accession War. It had been one of many things they had sent on from Tel Vos before it was ruined and then sacked, and one of many of those things that had gotten ruined or sacked anyway. There had been bandits around it, of course, but they hardly stood a chance against the two mages, and now here they were, looking through what little was left.

Laje-tal lifted up a plank, grabbing an old but still potent potion. "What a shame, it was such a fine boat for its time. Now it just gathers barnacles and bandits."

"And water everywhere," Aryon agreed, picking through some odds and ends the bandits left behind. "Ah, my ship! Spent so much on this hunk of wood! Now it wastes away just like our strongholds, buried by the water just as much as the rest in the ash. Not much good in here either."

"The bandits probably sold off whatever they could. Oh, here! Look!" She extracted a thin journal from a partially submerged chest, and surprisingly enough it was mostly intact. "I found it!"

"Let's see that." Looking over her shoulder when she opened it up, they read through the whole set of entries, both frowning at the end of it. "Lymdrenn! Bah! He assumed us dead! Well, I suppose I understand where he got that notion, with us escaping across the border by then. I'm sure they tore that fool to pieces, the way he had been going on about never giving up those pathetic slaves of his. I swear I never saw such a sad bunch of folk in all my days."

"They're all dead by now." Meeting Aryon's grunt with a sympathetic look she tried to reassure him. "If they were Argonians, they are already reborn. They will remember nothing of their pains before."

"I suppose so." He wasn't sure what else to make of it. As far as he knew, those Argonian souls really were reborn over and over again, but he didn't know it for a fact. Ancient Dunmer still wandered the lands as spirits now and then, so he knew not to discount it out of hand. "Better get this book back to Riften, then. You might be interested to meet this person, you know. He is a Dunmer but he was raised by an Argonian family."

"Is that so? Well then, we are opposites." She chuckled slightly. "You know, you did say I should know more Argonians, but wouldn't this Dunmer be a good start? After all, he is as much out of his element as I am. Maybe we can learn our own cultures through each other."

Pulling back from her shoulder with a touch of surprise he regarded her with amusement. "Two odds finding ends? Yes, that sounds like a good idea. As Telvanni, especially, we could offer him a fair amount of knowledge on the sort of place he is from. He was raised in the marshes, so he could tell you first hand what the homeland of your ancestors is like." He paused, wondering on something that had bothered him for a long time. "Do you ever want to go there? To Black Marsh?"

With a sigh she started walking back to their camp, eager to get back to the warm fire. "Aside from that time during the Oblivion Crisis when I felt the Hist compelling me to return, I haven't felt any real need or want to go there. What is there for me? I don't know that place. Even if I did go, do you really think they would take an outlander like me? When the Hist tried to pull me in, I was able to resist because Vvardenfell was my home. I would be just as much an outsider as I am here."

It was silent for a short while as they sat by the fire, trying to warm up from the chill ever coursing down the banks of snow and ice. Flexing his fingers, trying to get the feeling back into them, he spoke quietly. "I'm sorry I asked."

"No need. You wanted to know, and now you do. None ever get answers if they don't ask questions." She offered him a bit of meat that had been roasting, picking at it a bit herself. "We can't return to Morrowind, but I know we will be at home wherever we may go, even if it is only for a night."

Eating a mouthful of the cooked pheasant, the meat still tasting foreign to him, he couldn't help the sigh that escaped him. "I know. I still miss it."

"As bad as it was, I miss it too." It didn't seem like enough. It never did. Unlike many others that traversed the world, they couldn't go home, and maybe they never would. The only solace she could give was the one thing that would never change. "I am with you." Her fingers intertwined with his, holding tight to that promise they had made so many years ago. It was enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Riften was, as always, a strange sort of haven. For some, it wasn't much better than living out on the road, as much at the mercy of thieves as they were. Others, though, found the small gemstones lodged within the tarnished metals and knew them for what value they truly had. Aryon was that sort of person, and he found himself ever more intrigued by this place each time he came here. Laje-tal was completely engrossed in conversation with the Dunmer Brand-Shei, the one raised by Argonians, and predictably they had already launched into talking about the finer points of the differences between the cultures. Suddenly they started speaking in Jel, a language that Argonians seemed to know inherently, and it was at that point he had gotten lost with what was going on. He could make out bits and pieces of what they said, having studied the language some himself, but he knew she would fill him in later. For now, he explored the city.

Inside the local tavern, there were all sorts of folk inside, all as different as could be. Argonians owned the tavern, a couple Dunmer came in and out, Nord nobles and peasants sat at tables near each other and shady characters lurked in the corners. For once he didn't feel out of place. The one who did look out of place was an orange-garbed priest, chiding the others for their drinking and enjoyment. He got chased out of the tavern quickly by the frustrated mob of people, retreating to his temple. Curious, Aryon approached the bartender, Talen-Jei. "What was all that about?"

Talen regarded the Dunmer uneasily, but he conversed readily enough. "Priest of Mara, trying to tell my patrons not to come here. I swear, he's trying to end my business! Life in Skyrim is hard enough without having to give up the few things we like. He's just upset that all the noise here disrupts the weddings he puts on. There's one going on this week and he gets particularly edgy before it."

"A wedding? I did wonder how such a thing went on here. Whose wedding is it?"

"Mine, actually," Talen said with a wide grin. "Keerava hates to kick anyone out of the bar for it but there isn't much we can do. I'm just glad that other Argonian helped us finally forge our rings. It just wouldn't be right without them."

"Ah, the ones with the three amethysts, with the center stone representing the Hist?"

He blinked curiously at that. "Never expected to hear that one out of someone who isn't Argonian. Yes, the very same. I don't know what we would have done without Laje-tal finding the amethysts for us. Such things are hard to come by in Riften without the... right connections."

"Laje-tal did?" Puzzled for a moment he wondered when she had had time to do all of this. Once in a while she did do some odd errands without him noticing, not that he hadn't been doing the same. "My wife does have a knack for finding the strangest objects in the strangest places. Well, we might come attend your wedding if we can, as long as those dragons don't get in the way. I'll give the Nords some credit, they seem to be more open-minded when it comes to marriage. It was nearly impossible to find anyone to join us together."

Slowly he made the connection, though the conclusion confused him just as much. "The Argonian that helped us is your wife, then. Now that I think of it, she had mentioned something about looking for a Dark Elf when she was here. Yes, I suppose it wasn't easy to find someone in Morrowind, if that is where you are both from."

Aryon frowned at the memory. "Not a single holy man, priest or healer would even say words for us, not unless she renounced the Hist and was reinstated as a legal Dunmer."

His lip curled at that. "And that is one thing none of us would ever do, not for anyone."

"I know, nor would I have her do that for any reason, not any more than I would renounce my ancestors. Sometimes peasants would hire a minor mage or someone like that, but all the coin in the world couldn't sway them. Finally we found a much older way, even if only half the folk that heard of the marriage considered it legal."

Talen regarded him with curiosity and a growing respect. "You were very determined, then." He was watching the bar closely, keeping both eyes on Sapphire, a known Thieves Guild member and an aggressive one at that. "I misjudged you, friend, and I'm not too proud to admit that. You're welcome to come to our wedding if you are able to. Excuse me." He marched over to where Sapphire was just about to punch the other Nord, her hand already at his neck. Just about to aim and hit, she was stopped in her tracks by Talen, the Argonian always knowing when someone was about to get hurt in his bar. Yanking back her fist roughly, he shoved both of them towards the door. "Take it outside, Sapphire! You know better!"

The near-fight had been broken up well enough, but Aryon knew when to let someone get back to their work. Out of curiosity he left the bar to take a look at the nearby Temple of Mara. Though he hadn't been a follower of the Divines, he believed in the idea of studying what he didn't know so he might understand it better, even if the knowledge was only good in a theoretical sense. The usual Telvanni outlook was to ignore the outside world for personal pursuits, but his own outlook was exactly opposite. His personal pursuit for knowledge largely was the outside world and the many strange wonders it held.

As he looked around the Temple, observing the architecture and artwork, he found himself recalling the conversation he had had with Talen. He hadn't told many people about the incident that his own marriage had been. In the back of the building, empty during the lunch hour, he sat down in one of the vacant pews, looking through an old journal he had recorded the event in and remembering how it had all come to pass.

In the beginning, it had been an amusing challenge. After the tenth try, though, it had turned into pure frustration. Not even a crooked hedge witch could be convinced to help them, their loyalties to their own race coming up at the most inconvenient of times. At a loss, they looked up older practices in the many books they had laying around, but it was Aryon's thin stash of books on the Ashlanders that had given them the most encouragement.

Laje-tal was considered a clan member of the Urshilaku with the rank of hearth-friend, and with it came some rights she hadn't known about. There was the promise of hospitality, and some would share their homes and food with her, but there were a few other rights that stuck out. She had the right to pose her opinion in a council, though her vote couldn't be counted as official. In times of war, she had the right to ask for their aid, and of course they might ask the same in return. Most importantly, she had the right to request that a wise woman perform a marriage ceremony. There was just one problem.

"You would have to undergo the trial of fire and ash," she pointed out in the book, fingering a very plain line. "You aren't a clan-friend and would be considered an outsider. A clan member can marry a foreigner or outsider if that person does the trial."

He didn't give it much thought, glad that there was at least something they could do. "Fire and ash couldn't give much trouble to a Dunmer. If they will do it after I go through their trial, it's worth trying."

It hadn't been quite that simple, but after they both showed they were quite determined to get what they had sought for so long, Nibani Maesa had agreed to help them. She, like many others, had come to know Laje-tal not just as the Nerevarine, but also a close friend. The Argonian had made a point to visit as often as she could, studying the customs and background of the Ashlanders and developing her relationship with each of the clans. Largely these visits had been to improve the understanding between them and the Telvanni, especially the Zainab that lived close to Tel Vos. This, though, had been a much larger request.

Nibani had looked down at both of them, kneeling in respect of her wisdom, and had been quite plain in her reception of the idea. "I know you, Laje-tal, and I know you wouldn't ask such a thing lightly, knowing how Dunmer feel about your kind. And you, Aryon, I know you enough to know you wouldn't jeopardize your standing in the eyes of the other Telvanni without having good reason. As it is, it's best that your House is mostly ignorant of what their other members do in their own holdings, but it is still a thing to be considered carefully. Once an Ashlander wed an Imperial, and it ended badly. You must understand how difficult it is for me to consider such a thing again."

Aryon only smiled. "This entire process has been as much a test on our relationship as anything else. It hasn't been easy to travel from place to place, only to be refused every time. I don't know how, but it has only made us grow stronger together through these trials. Maybe if we had come to you the first or second time I might have been more hesitant, but you know how we Telvanni are. Being told we can't do something only makes us want to show them we can."

Beside him Laje-tal laughed, agreeing with him completely. "That, and of course for as much as he frustrates me sometimes, I do love him. Not one person here or anywhere has understood me half as well as he does, and I would say I understand him better than any other." Confirming that, seeing Aryon's brief nod, she continued. "I have learned that sometimes love can surprise you with who it guides you to, but it knows better than you do what you need."

"Very well then." Placing a hand on each of their shoulders, she regarded them both sternly. "I will do this for you, as you have both been so good to all of our clans and have done so much for us, but I expect you to take your vow as seriously as a Dunmer treats the remains of their ancestors." Looking at Aryon specifically, she pointed at him. "You must still undergo the trial. I know you and I know you are earnest, but this is so the entire tribe can see that you are willing to obey our customs and do what many other outsiders have been unwilling to do."

"I will," Aryon agreed.

Frowning, she considered something she hadn't before. "The trial of fire and ash is for foreigners, those who are not Dunmer, so they might better understand the land we are so deeply rooted in. We then pose the trial of water and trees to our clan-kin, so they might understand the lands outside of ours. You would both learn nothing this way, and I wouldn't have that be so. This has been done rarely in all the time of our stories, but it will be done again. You, Laje-tal, must go to Sul-Matuul and take the trial of fire and ash. You, Aryon, will remain here and take the trial of water and trees. I will tell you though the same that Sul-Matuul will say, and that is that you must never tell any person of what you do in your trials, not even each other."

So it had happened. They went through their trials, escaping them with more than they had expected to learn, and they in turn got to witness firsthand what an Ashlander wedding ceremony was like. In hindsight it had been far better than any sort of Temple ceremony, filled with celebration and feasting rather than morose chanting and having to stand around and listen to priests drone on. By the end of the evening his journal had been filled with hundreds of notes, observations and sketches of what had gone on that he had been permitted to tell others, all going into his final book written about the Ashlanders. That book hadn't come into popularity until after the fall of the Tribunal and those calling themselves the Reclamations came around, but then that book hadn't been about how the Ashlanders had been correct about the Tribunal.

The journal from that time had been one of the few things he had kept on him at all times, lest it get lost. He paged through the notes and sketches with a smile. Although the poor old thing had seen better days, he had taken care of it as well as possible, but a few of the sketches had faded slightly and some of the writing smeared. Taking out a hardened ash pencil he cleared up what he could, then took out a fresher journal to sketch out some of the architecture in the Temple. He wasn't exactly a professional artist, but any who looked at his sketches said that he was more or less at least accurate. For a while he just drew and made notes, but after a while he looked up to see Laje-tal entering the Temple, going over to sit next to him.

Before she could get too close, though, he faced her, pointing the pencil at her nose. "What is the shortest book in history?"

She grinned. "Redguard heroes of the War of Betony."

Laughing, he moved closer, showing her the sketch he made of the statue of Mara. "What do you think?"

"Not bad." Comparing his sketch with the statue, she noticed he had the other, much older journal as well. "Ah, I remember that!"

"I would certainly hope so, you helped me fill it." He took out a thicker folded sheet from somewhere in the midst of the pages, unfolding it so she could see the large sketch she had made of Tel Uvirith. "There's this, and a few others in another book of mine."

"I didn't think you had kept that." The sketch she had made of her stronghold after it was first finished had been but one of many things she hadn't been able to find during the evacuation, and although it hadn't been terribly important at the time, after the stronghold had been destroyed it had been missed. "Did you take the one I made of Dagoth Ur's compound?"

"Of course." Seeing her raised brow he tried to look at least somewhat sheepish at being caught at his little theft. "You always stuffed them into the corners of your bookshelf, I couldn't let them end up crumpled into a ball after you went to all the trouble."

"No wonder I couldn't find them. Well, I'm glad for it now, anyway." She took the old journal from him, paging through until she saw the sketches of Red Mountain and the Ghostfence. "I wonder if anything is left of that Ghostfence anymore." For a while they pondered the fate of many places left behind, what Vvardenfell must look like by now, and how long the great mountain might pour out ash. They became so absorbed in the theories they didn't notice when the priestess Dinya of the temple came in, looking at the odd couple talking about her homeland.

"Oh, visitors! I'm so sorry, have you come to seek the counsel of Mara?"

Laje-tal, startled, almost jumped from her seat, looking behind her only to see another Dunmer. How odd, to see a Dunmer at a Shrine of Mara in Skyrim, but then she and Aryon were there so she could hardly judge. "Oh, no, I only came to catch up with my husband. We both have a sort of interest in the many different ways and practices of others, and your Temple has some unique architecture."

As for Aryon, though, he had a small bit more to add. "Actually I also heard that Talen and Keerava were to be married here, and I wanted to see what this place was like. I know so little about Argonian marriage conventions, but to see how it might work in Skyrim was too intriguing to ignore. Such a thing could never have happened in Morrowind, at least not publicly."

The priestess only nodded, having seen as much when she had been in Morrowind herself. "Even now Morrowind continues to be a place filled with misunderstanding and distrust. The blessings of Mara, though, can be conferred onto anyone, and it is she that taught us that the truest love comes from the inner, not the outer. You might have met my husband Maramal, and though he is a Redguard we were married, and it was a surprise to find out I'm also carrying his child. We were told that it couldn't..." She stopped herself, laughing lightly. "Well, that is the nature of such a blessing."

Laje-tal's tail flicked unconsciously with agitation, making Aryon frown but leaving Dinya oblivious. "On the contrary, constantly pairing with a human makes a Dunmer woman become fertile faster and much more likely to bear a child as a result. It's only with other elves that it is so slow."

"Is that so? I suppose it does make more sense now why it happened so quickly..." Just then Maramal returned to the Temple, fretting over this and that, and he did need to clean under that pew thank you very much. Laughing at his curt but humorous comment, Dinya bid them leave with a bit more grace. "You had better go for now, he will be all out of sorts until this week has passed. Come back at a later time if you wish."

It didn't take much of Maramal's fussing to convince them to clear out, and Aryon had picked up on enough of his wife's frustration to know she needed to leave. Once outside, his suspicions had proved correct, her tail flicking hard to smack against a stone post as they walked past it. Fortunately this area of town wasn't heavily traveled, and it wasn't hard to find a nearby clear area. He had an idea of what had been going on, but he had to make sure. "It isn't like you to let something bother you so easily."

Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes narrowed and tail lashing so hard it cut a few grasses from their stems. "I don't know what's wrong with me. Something about the Dark Brotherhood has been bothering me since we cleared them out, it's like there's something wrong but I don't know what." Flames flickered at the ends of her fingers, reacting to her energy and anger. This emotion always did block out her thoughts too much for her to focus.

Being all too familiar with this, Aryon knew the only cure for it was to vent her frustrations. Throwing up a defensive stance, he held up his fists, gesturing for her to toss some punches. "Come on, let's see if you can break my defense."

"Aryon, really..."

"You know I won't do anything else until you've broken through." It was true enough, he had the patience for it. He didn't have to wait long, only moments passed before she finally sighed, bringing up her guard and letting loose with her punches. She knew how hard she could hit without actually hurting him, but she reached that extent plenty of times during their spar. Finally she feinted, pulling her punch just enough to make him loosen his guard, and her other fist broke through his defense, tapping him on the shoulder to make the point. Relaxing his stance he waited quietly until her panting waned, aggravation lessening. "Good. Are you ready to talk about this more clearly now?"

Their spar had the calming effect intended, all of her anger – and even jealousy – poured out with every punch. It was as if all she had been troubled over became plain to her with each blow. "We are immortal, not invulnerable. There is always the possibility that we might be killed. After we killed the Dark Brotherhood again, I thought about it just as I did the last time we confronted them. That shadowscale, the moment he let down his guard was the moment he died, and I can't help but think that one day it will happen to one of us."

It had, of course, been a possibility they couldn't ignore for long. Although they were beyond exceptional among their peers, there was, as the Argonians said, a leviathan lurking under every pool, waiting to devour the hardiest fool. Her very ascension to being Arch-Magister of House Telvanni had been by way of slaying the former Arch-Magister, and their lives had both been filled with so much destruction and death it was easy for even the elves to truly consider their mortality. "That's true," he admitted, his expression calm but troubled. "I expect you are worried about what is to become of House Telvanni?"

She was somewhat surprised by his accurate guess. "I am. I can't stand the idea of Neloth ruling House Telvanni in my place. He might even already think he is, and I can't wait to show him that he very well is not. If one or both of us dies, that would be the end of it. I may not be able to provide you an heir, but I will not relegate the future of House Telvanni to Neloth."

"No, he wouldn't be able to deal with any actual troubles outside of his stronghold, he never has. From what I remember, he hardly ever slept and rarely left his home. No, I don't want all of our hard work to be in vain either, but we have to go about this carefully."

"I know. I already heard a couple whispers in Riften that the Nerevarine might be in Skyrim, so it won't be long before everyone finds out. It's probably for the best, since they won't underestimate us and should leave us alone. Still, there is the matter of this Dragonborn business."

He chewed at his lip thoughtfully, considering what they might do as he watched the sun move across the sky. "I think that might come in handy, actually. The Dragonborn seems to be a sort of Nerevar of the north, and I think you could well achieve a sort of understanding with the Nords if you kept fulfilling this prophecy, just as you did with the Dunmer and the Nerevarine Prophecy. Perhaps you were meant to reunite this broken land and take it back on the narrow way. After all, you once told me that Tiber Septim wouldn't have wanted this for his people."

"From what Barenziah told me of him, no. He probably would have been a little horrified that he has been turned into a deity. No, he was too humble, too fair. He would never have elevated himself to the state of a god, anything but. His idea was a united empire, and if he knew now that his empire is now being divided because of this, I'm sure he would writhe in his deep grave."

"Hm, going to play hero again, then?"

"I already have been, I can at least do so by choice." Nodding, feeling more resolute than she had for a great many years, she finally had an idea where to go from here. "Alright, I will go speak to those Greybeards. They are masters of this power just as we are masters of our own magics, and the best way to learn magic is through a master. I will do whatever they have me do, build up my reputation with them and the others among the holds as well. I'll do just as I did in House Telvanni, and make myself invisible until I am impossible to remove."

"A good plan, though Nords are not Telvanni. They won't be ignorant to your actions, which may be both bad and good. Whatever you might do, I will follow."

A more somber look crossed her face, though it was rather hard to tell such an expression from a sad one. "I can't just ask you to follow me around without question. There must be something you wish to do as well."

He faked being affronted, brows raised dramatically. "Me? Do something else? Surely you're joking! Following the new Dragonborn on a journey to discover all sorts of historical treasures, ruins, and who knows what else? I rather like getting into trouble with you, you know. If I were left to my own devices I wouldn't be able to entertain myself half as much. You were burdened with prophecy the first time we met and I itched to forget my duties and join you on your quest. I couldn't possibly pass up the chance to experience all of the places this will take you."

"Alright then." She smiled, already feeling less guilty about her fate dragging them along on its merciless strings. "If you like trouble so much, let's go make some."

* * *

Laje-tal was bored. Purely, utterly bored. The Greybeards had been nice enough, and they had indeed filled her in on what her powers meant, but did they really have to go on and on like this? They had only offered to teach her more if she sat there and listened to their speech about the way of the voice, the meaning of Kynareth's blessing, all sorts of things she didn't particularly care about but still listened to. Once they mentioned the first battle of Red Mountain and that interested her for a moment, but then it came back to what they learned from it and oh, how dull! Even Aryon looked bored, and he had been busying himself with drawing the interior of the building and a few of the Greybeards themselves.

During the hour spent here, she learned the second part of her new spell followed by a different spell, both of which the Greybeards called a shout. Honestly it just seemed like a three part spell, but she didn't correct them. After that, it had been one dull speech after another, with only a few tantalizing bits and pieces thrown in. At long last they were done introducing her to each other, the monastery and the things she should and should not do, and it was with great relief that she returned to Aryon's side at the edge of the room. "Daedra and Divines, I thought they would never be done talking."

Aryon didn't laugh at her nonsense like usual, instead pondering over the many notes and drawings he had made, pointing out a few in particular. "Well while you were busy shouting, I picked up a few things I found interesting about this power of yours. Not only that, but the very severe honor it is to even be here. According to what I have been hearing, you are the first to be summoned here since Tiber Septim himself, and he too had this shouting power."

Her brows raised at that. "Is that so? I had better not be the next in line for emperor or I am seriously going to consider throwing myself before Mephala and beg her stop tampering with my fate."

Now he did laugh, but he soon returned to pointing out more notes. "I can't quite say as much but I know you are in a very good position now in the eyes of the Nords. Even if you don't take this any farther, you are the Dragonborn and you were summoned by the Greybeards just like Tiber Septim. Why, we could even say you have his soul in you, guiding you through all of this."

She snorted. "I already have Nerevar in here, I don't think I have room for anyone else. He could be in me too for all I know, I don't exactly sense Nerevar's presence in me. Who knows how many souls are trying to share me?"

"As long as they allow me the better share of you, then it's fine." Grinning, he pointed out one last thing. "These Greybeards also mentioned a leader, one who knows well their way of the voice. It was so odd though what they called him. Paarthurnax? Does that sound like any name, Nord or otherwise, that you have ever heard before? It sounds old, very old. I wonder if their leader is not human."

"Probably not. It wouldn't surprise me if that leader is a dragon. How else to best master this way of the voice than by way of one that has known it forever? It's not impossible that one dragon or more has learned that man might be worked alongside with, and not just eaten or destroyed."

"A brilliant notion! Yes, a dragon would have to be hidden in those obscuring clouds at the top, wouldn't it? Safe from prying eyes and all of that. I'm sure you'll find out once those Greybeards let you, but wouldn't that be such a thing, to converse with a dragon so ancient?"

"It would," she agreed. "Let's not get our hopes up, though. We don't know yet. Anything else?"

"Hm, just this. I found a book with a curious mention of Numidium in it." He took out a book from his pack, _The Book of the Dragonborn_, and showed her the last passage. "See, the Brass Tower, and the Thrice Blessed. I'll bet that's the Tribunal, and we know Numidium is that thing that Dagoth Ur made a replica of, copying what the Dwemer had made before. And here, Red Tower trembles? Surely that must be Red Mountain. The Dragonborn ruler loses his throne and White Tower falls. That would be the death of the last of the Septim line, followed by the siege on the Imperial City. Then this Snow Tower lying sundered, kingless and bleeding. Ulfric Stormcloak killed High King Torygg and the throne of Skyrim is under contention. Finally the world-eater wakes? That was that black dragon, Alduin. You really do have a good deal of prophecy following you about."

"Indeed, and I don't like where this book is going with its mentions of Reman Cyrodiil and Tiber Septim. Dragonborn emperors, chosen for the throne! I want none of that, it would very much get in the way of all the things I have yet to study."

"I'm a bit puzzled by the mention of Numidium, though. In this passage it is mentioned in sequence, and the mention of Numidium is before this part that must mention the warp in the west. Ah, the original Numidium, of course! I remember now, that mention in _The Progress of Truth_ that had been restricted during your Nerevarine path. The Tribunal had Numidium, it would explain how Dagoth Ur got wind of it and made that copy. They gave it to Tiber Septim. Ah and there was the totem of Tiber Septim, when the dragon broke and five people held it simultaneously. I haven't thought about that in so many years. Did you know that the Underking at the time was thought to have created an anti-magic zone for a time with that totem?"

"How curious."

"Now, as for that entry on Numidium, I remember that it had been surrendered as part of the Armistice between Morrowind and the new empire. This section about misrule and the eight corners refers to Jagar Tharn. That would make this prophecy of yours even older than we first thought."

"It all goes back to Alduin, who seems to predate written history. There is a great deal in that book about the Blades, I remember that Imperial who introduced me to the idea of the Nerevarine prophecy as being a member of the Blades. Yes, right here, Akaviri dragonslayers, using the Dragonborn people of their time to kill and steal dragon souls. Well, if there are any Blades left, we will surely be found by them."

"Probably." Putting away the book he turned once again to his notes, humming thoughtfully. "The Greybeards want you to retrieve this horn of their leader. If you do it I'm sure they will have more to teach you, even if they do end up boring you half to death."

She shook her head, chuckling. "It wasn't quite so bad, really, but it's better that you are the one making the notes. You always could endure that constant droning better than I could."

"No, you were always just a terrible listener." Dodging her retaliating swipe with ease, he didn't take back his words. "You were and you know it."

With a sigh she more or less agreed with him. "I suppose that's true sometimes, though I have gotten more used to listening to the likes of you."

"All for the better, I'm sure. Let's return to Ivarstead, we already dropped off those supplies that that villager Klimmek wanted us to take in, and I don't know about you but a night at the inn sounds like a good time to go over this further."

She grumbled, already feeling the weariness set in. "Honestly Aryon I couldn't agree more."

* * *

Being ambushed by strange cultists the moment they set foot out of the inn that morning hadn't been in their plans, certainly, but happen it did. They were of course looking for the new Dragonborn, and they did indeed find her, but they didn't end up claiming her heart as they so boldly proclaimed. No, they were now quite dead and as Laje-tal picked over their bodies, looking for clues, she finally found a note that made both of them frown. "Miraak? Who is this Miraak?"

Aryon was just as clueless as she was. "Those cultists called him the true Dragonborn, but I've never heard of anyone like him. This note shows they came from Solstheim, and I bet they had a boat ready to take them right back. Windhelm again... This doesn't sound good at all. I think those were members of the dragon cult that was mentioned in a couple books I saw. Hm, so what now?"

"What indeed. Now we have two problems on our hands. I suppose we had better look into this one now while we still can. I have a feeling that the further I delve into my involvement in the dragons, the harder it is going to be to get away from it if these cultists become a problem. No, I won't risk more of them attacking us later. It looks like we should go to Solstheim next."

"It will be interesting to see that place again after such a long time. I wonder what it looks like."

"Raven Rock is still there as far as I know, and the Skaal. I'm sure it's mostly unrecognizable, since I heard the eruption affected even that place. I guess we will be seeing it sooner than expected."

Aryon just nodded, checking his gear. "Let us go, then. I am with you."

* * *

The journey to Windhelm was more or less quiet, but the captain of _The Northern Maiden_ had been anything but. He had had his own encounter with the same cultists, and from his description he sounded like he had been under their control and had taken them to Windhelm against his will. Every piece of evidence they were finding was getting more and more interesting. The man had of course refused to take them, but after promising to give the cultists a fair share of payback, he had finally agreed to take them. After several hours on the boat, the mountains of Solstheim came in sight.

"This place is just swarming with Dunmer," Laje-tal commented, looking around at the town of Raven Rock. "Looks like House Redoran took the whole place over."

Aryon peered out from the boat as well, taking it all in. "Makes sense. After the Imperials left and this place was turned over to the refugees, House Redoran would be the sort to take advantage of it."

Soon the ship docked, letting them out, and the first thing they encountered was a Dunmer stopping them and calling them outlanders and outsiders. Well, he had no way of knowing that not only had they been there before, but it was them who helped start Raven Rock to begin with. Still, one thing he had mentioned stuck out, and once out of the Dunmer's hearing, Laje-tal turned to Aryon to mention it. "He said Councilor Morvayn. Do you suppose Brara Morvayn heeded our warning?"

"Maybe, but did you hear how confused he was about Miraak? It's just like with that sailor. It's like everyone might know him but they forgot, but he did mention an earth stone. We had probably better go look at it and see what all the trouble is."

They followed the docks to where the few they asked said the earth stone was, and as they approached, they couldn't begin to understand what was happening. Citizens and Redoran guards alike were building a strange construct around the stone, half dazed and muttering strange words as they did so. As they came closer, looking at the stone with complete confusion, a very familiar voice called to them from the sidelines. "You there! Yes, you! You don't appear to be quite in the same state as the rest of these people." When he came closer, though, Laje-tal barely held back a groan.

"Oh stars above, it's Neloth."

The Telvanni wizard looked at her with a strange combination of amusement and malcontent, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well if it isn't the mighty Arch-Magister Laje-tal. I thought you would be quite dead by now."

"I contracted the corprus disease as you recall, or maybe your mind is addled in your old age."

"Charming as always, aren't you? Well surely someone of your... great standing must have some... grand reason for coming all the way out here."

Before Laje-tal had a chance to let loose on the many things she wanted to say, Aryon intervened, questioning Neloth more calmly. "I couldn't help but notice these people are building a strange structure. Any idea what it is?"

"Hmph... well no, but it is clearly something and I am just itching to see what. It must be something powerful or important to have enslaved even the guards. Where have you even been all this time, Aryon?"

"I think I had better be asking you where you were during the Oblivion crisis, hadn't I? Where were you when all of those portals had been opening, when every last mage was struggling to their last to hold them at bay?"

Neloth predictably grew defensive, arms crossed over his chest haughtily. "I had already come to Solstheim the year before and I wasn't about to pack up and leave all over again! It's not my fault that I had seen the signs of coming disaster and acted upon it!"

"And here you are again, not even trying to help stop these people from doing whatever it is they are doing against their wills. Who is doing this? Is it this Miraak we keep hearing about?"

Now he seemed puzzled, eyes going blank for a moment. "Miraak? That... sounds so familiar but... how strange. It couldn't be Miraak, he is long dead. No, I don't know it just slips my mind every time I think on it."

Aryon traded a significant look with Laje-tal, both unnerved that even Neloth had been partly caught up in all of this. "Aren't you going to stop them?"

"Of course not! How could I ever see what they were making if I stopped them?"

"By Azura..."

"If it matters to you that much there is a temple of Miraak near the center of this island, I'm sure you and your... Dragonborn will have a warm reception. After all, Argonians must feel so very close to the dragons being so very... scaled, and horned and... full of energy. Yes, you had better be careful with that one, Aryon, she looks about ready to bite me this very second."

His eyes narrowed but he showed no other outward signs of annoyance. "Yes, my wife never did like someone speaking about her as if she were a beast, and I don't like it either. I might bite you myself if I have a mind to."

"You never had a mind to do anything but play with Ashlanders and Imperials, why-" Suddenly he paused, the moment finally hitting him. "Your wife? You really... seriously! How did you even... no, don't tell me, _please_ don't tell me. Really? You... hah!" He started laughing, the harsh sound quickly getting on both their nerves. "An Argonian and a Dunmer, think of it! Oh this is too good!" His laughing only worsened, and before long he retreated, clutching his gut and turning away from them. Well, that was Neloth.

Oddly enough Laje-tal didn't appear bothered by the conversation, only smiling calmly and getting ready to leave. "Come on. Let's get out of here while he's occupied." Next to her Aryon gave her an odd look but went along with it, following after her until they rounded the docks and were out of sight. Suddenly she grabbed him, dragging him into the bushes, the grin on her face full of what was definitely going to be trouble for both of them. "This is perfect!"

Still a bit ruffled by being dragged into a pile of trama roots, he disentangled himself enough to face her. "What was all of that about?"

"Don't you see? That structure is so huge and intricate, it will take those workers a good week or more to finish it, and guess who will be there watching it the whole time!"

"Neloth, of course."

"Of course, and this means his stronghold might be empty! He may have scrounged up a retainer or two but I'll bet his main tower has hardly a soul. He never did like having too many people around distracting him."

"Hm, I like where this is going."

"Did you see those robes he was wearing? I'll bet he has extras for us to... borrow. I wouldn't take anything else of course, but after his very... gracious reception of us, it is only fitting to bring him a housewarming gift."

He only grinned with her. "Gods I love you."


End file.
